Bardic Tale
by Jessa L'Rynn
Summary: Why does Elizabeth I want the Doctor's head on a platter? After Journey's End, the Doctor tries to find out, but misses. He's going to get his answer, in this AU story worthy of the Bard himself. Or is it a tale told by an idiot? Mysterypoet's July II
1. Chapter 1

As a request for July II, **mysterypoet66** asked me for this one, which was meant to be a sequel to "The Shakespeare Code". It got out of hand with me because Donna and Jack were the specified companions. Since I couldn't have them in the same place without going AU, I went completely AU. Welcome to yet another Universe of mine, wherein the events of Journey's End went one of the ways I think would have been better.

What I'm supposed to have is Donna & Jack, the explanation behind the Queen's Wrath, several specific quotes from Shakespeare, and a cream pie sans crack. What I have is Shakespeare... oh, it's complicated, you'll have to read it.

_This one is multi-chaptered. Updates may take a few days because all research is being done carefully and with loving dedication to historical accuracy. Which me luck, I'll need it. And yes, every chapter will have a Shakespearean title._

* * *

**A Bardic Tale**

_Chapter 1: Much Ado About Nothing_

"Oi, genius, up and at 'em."

Jack smiled as he walked past the last bedroom just before he would reach the console room. He would have kept walking, but a door opened, and a pillow came soaring out, following by a laughing Donna Noble. He dodged the first, caught the last, grinned his best grin at her. She smiled shyly back at him, and Jack couldn't resist a bit of a smirk. One of so many changes they'd had to get used to, but it wasn't the weirdest, so Jack couldn't complain. She was a little quieter than before, at least where Jack was concerned.

She still had no qualms about hitting the Doctor round the head, shouting at him, or otherwise making his life simply - as she said - 'wizard'. Well, that wasn't strictly true. They all stepped a little lightly around the Doctor these days - he was an ancient alien, so he wasn't exactly fragile, but Jack was an ancient human himself, so he knew how breakable not-fragile became some times.

"Hey, princess, have you seen my glasses?"

Donna rolled her eyes, and Jack snorted, straightened her up a bit, and tilted his head toward the door. "Have fun," he said.

She sighed. "Yeah, well, seeing's you couldn't see 'em if they jumped up and bit you..."

Jack opened the console room door and shut out the morning banter. He loved them, he really did, but they were so loud!

The Doctor was leaning over the console, jotting rapidly in a notebook and pausing to swear intermittently in dead languages. "Any luck?" he asked softly. The Time Lord just shook his head.

Jack sighed. "All right. I think it's time I get back to Cardiff, then. I can set Mickey the Idiot running some algorithms through the computers there, maybe call Sarah and see if I can borrow some time with her Mr. Smith. Is it just me, or is the computer's name really funny?"

The Doctor looked up, blinking rapidly. "I've got an idea."

"Uh oh," said Jack.

"No, it's not that sort of idea. Just thought I'd make a quick stop or two before I set you in Cardiff. Old times sake and all that."

"Doctor, my team..."

"Jack, time machine."

"I know," the ex-Time Agent replied crossly. "But you know as well as I do - better, really - that time_ feels_ like it's passing, even if it technically isn't."

The Doctor nodded, looking wistfully at his calculations. "Right. Still, can't hurt, can it? Sort of retrace our steps, a bit?"

"You just don't want to be left alone with the Wonder Twins," Jack accused, grinning as he said it to lighten the blow a bit.

Wonder Twin Two staggered through the doorway right about then, looking, as he always did, around the console room as if he couldn't remember where it came from. "We're on a spaceship!!" he yelled enthusiastically.

"D'you blame me?" the Doctor asked quietly.

Jack looked at the awestruck young man. He was currently running a reverent hand up one of the coral support struts. Jack smiled fondly - it was one of his few mannerisms that was still familiar from... well, from before. The man was ginger-haired like his sister. His eyes were the same goldish-green color as hers.

Other than that, he looked exactly as he had the day he was "born" - completely identical to the Doctor.

"John, if you don't give me my shoes, I'm gonna kill you and hide the bits in jars!" Donna shouted from the hall.

"Knew I shouldn't have let you go to Egypt!" John shouted back. Then, he turned to the other two men. "Don't s'pose you know what I did with her shoes?" he asked.

Jack and the Doctor laughed.

John Noble rolled his eyes. "Well, isn't that wizard?" he demanded.

The Doctor just smirked.

* * *

"Elizabethan England," the Doctor announced proudly, flinging open the doors. "A time of romance and cultural advancement, Bess Tudor on the throne, and the British Armada the pride of the open seas."

"A time of open sewers and distinctly primitive personal hygiene," John answered, wrinkling his nose.

Donna whacked him in the chest. "Shut it, bright-boy."

"Bite me, temp-girl," he replied.

Jack snorted while the Doctor struggled not to laugh. "Right, let's all recite the rules," the Doctor said playfully. "What's rule number one, boys and girls?"

"No sleeping with our great-great-grandparents?" Jack asked.

"No letting Donna loose on the Church fathers?" John suggested.

"No feeding the hungry aliens?" Donna offered.

The Doctor threw up his hands. He loved them, he really, really did, but some times he absolutely despaired of them. "Right. Jack, that's rule two for you, and isn't this the wrong century? John... yes, very good idea, rule two for you. Donna, I ate, thanks, and I'd better be the only alien here."

"You probably won't be, though, space man. It'll turn out that there's some alien plot to capture Shakespeare and use his plays to take over the world or something."

"No, already did that one. Will do that one," the Doctor said. He shrugged. "Never mind. Point is, rule number one is, as always, don't wander off. Really, really don't. No 'I just want to see this', no 'huh, that's a mark seven laser converter, I'd better steal it', no 'oh, wow, I think I'll follow the strange looking strangers down the dark alley', none of that. All three of you stay where I can see you, especially you, John, you're completely new at this. Jack, it's a long walk and a long wait to Cardiff, got it?"

Jack nodded. The Doctor had recently discovered that he was going to have to adjust his nice round number that he claimed as his age because Jack was older than it. Not actually older than he really was, though, but they were very nearly neck and neck. "Last thing. Jack, she's called the Virgin Queen. Please leave it that way, yeah?"

Jack laughed. "Are we actually going to meet her?" Donna asked excitedly. "Queen Elizabeth, we're going to meet her?"

The Doctor scratched at the back of his neck. "Yeah, well, last time I was here I found out she knew me, so I thought we could do, yeah."

"Knew you how?" Jack demanded, a bit of teasing in his tone as he set off up the street.

"She ordered my head off," the Doctor admitted eventually.

John patted him on the back sympathetically. Jack and Donna laughed.

"Not the right time frame is it, Doc?" Jack asked as they entered a small market area.

There were notices signed under James I. The Doctor sighed. "Ok, so I missed it by a few years."

"At least we don't have to deal with a potential head hunt, I suppose," Jack acknowledged, watching Donna and John intently to make sure that the former didn't run off and the latter didn't glue himself to the notices he was staring at in awe and fascination. "If I seduce him, will you kill me?"

"Yes," the Doctor said.

"How 'bout her?"

"Twice," the Doctor replied.

"Worth it," Jack decided, and wandered over to flirt with the Noble twins.

The Doctor rolled his eyes. Short of putting Jack out on an airless asteroid and making him space walk back to Cardiff, he had very little control over the man. Well, that and Jack loved him. Of course, John might sort of give him an outlet for that.

Of course, he didn't want - really, really didn't want - to find out what his counter-part, who firmly believed he was Donna's twin brother, did and did not know about "human social interaction". What he wanted to do, if he was completely honest, was to turn the Universe over and shake it to make sure no more Daleks and no more Time Lord weaponry fell out. And hopefully get a lead on their missing companion while he was at it.

He shook himself, desperate to ward off the memories. He couldn't endure them, he simply couldn't. He closed his eyes, swallowed hard.

"Doctor?" asked a familiar voice from up the street.

The Doctor's eyes flew open. "Shakespeare?" he asked.

"Shakespeare?" said every member in his little band, Jack slightly out of synch with the Noble twins.

William Shakespeare, somewhat older but still wearing that neck piece the Doctor had suggested, came dodging through crowds toward them, then snatched the Doctor's hand and shook it warmly. "You haven't changed..." he started to say, but then he peered into the Doctor's eyes. "Yes, you have, my friend. Oh, you have. And what nightmares have befallen you?"

"I don't want to talk about it," the Doctor replied grimly.

"You didn't..." Shakespeare studied the group with those quick, clever eyes. "Did you lose Martha?" he asked.

"No," the Doctor replied, forcing a smile. "She just stayed in Freedonia for this trip." The others, except Donna, could read from that that they were meant to not say anything. Donna, however, appeared to be trying to figure out where this guy had come from and what they'd done with the Shakespeare she knew from her history books.

"What'dya say, Will?" the Doctor asked enthusiastically. "How'd you like to see the ship, this time?"

Shakespeare nodded excitedly. "I'd love to. I have a new story to tell you, Doctor, and I think you'll enjoy it. Sadly, I can never tell it to the world, so it will have to be for you alone."

"What story is that?" the Doctor wondered.

"The story of the man who offended her majesty the queen and lived to tell about it."

The Doctor stared. "You found out?" he breathed in wonder.

"Yes, and it wasn't easy, let me tell you. Oh, but it's a story worthy of an old bardic tale. So why don't we see your ship, and you can introduce me to the lady with the hair of flame."

"And I'll break out the hypervodka," Jack suggested.

"No, Jack," the Doctor said.

"But," Jack and Donna both whined.

"No!" the Doctor and John repeated.

Will smiled. "Might want wine with this one, time traveler. I wouldn't like to hear this sort of story about myself without fortifying."

"Once upon a time," the Doctor said cheerfully, as he led them down the street, "I sent Mr. Shakespeare here to the Globe with only one request and he fluffed it!"

"See," said Shakespeare, his eyes twinkling, "and that could have gone down much smoother."

The Doctor shook his head, "Allonsy, William," he said. He made a sour face, which Donna laughed at him, but not unkindly.

"Doesn't sound as good?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Could be worse, I suppose."

"How?" asked John, coming up on his other side, forcing the three of them to walk in a strange sort of tandem.

"The king's guards could be after us, too!" Jack shouted as a loud kerfuffle broke out behind them in the streets.

The Doctor snagged a hand of each twin. "Run!" he ordered.


	2. Chapter 2

As a request for July II, **mysterypoet66** asked me for this one, which was meant to be a sequel to "The Shakespeare Code". It got out of hand with me because Donna and Jack were the specified companions. Since I couldn't have them in the same place without going AU, I went completely AU. Welcome to yet another Universe of mine, wherein the events of Journey's End went one of the ways I think would have been better.

What I'm supposed to have is Donna & Jack, the explanation behind the Queen's Wrath, several specific quotes from Shakespeare, and a cream pie sans crack. What I have is Shakespeare... oh, it's complicated, you'll have to read it.

_This one is multi-chaptered. Updates may take a few days because all research is being done carefully and with loving dedication to historical accuracy. Which me luck, I'll need it. And yes, every chapter will have a Shakespearean title._

* * *

**A Bardic Tale**

_Chapter 2: The Two Noble Kinsmen_

John Noble tried very hard not to laugh at his sister, but honestly, he couldn't help it some times. They were sitting in the library on the Doctor's ship, just the pair of them and - aw, wizard! - William Shakespeare. This was like a dream come true for John, one of the best he'd ever had. Donna, however, was making it hilarious.

Shakespeare had her hand and was smiling into her eyes, clearly fascinated and admiring. "Oh, for a muse of fire," the Bard proclaimed breathlessly, "that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention!"

Donna - he loved her, he really, really did, but some times he completely despaired of her. Donna looked at the golden-haired man, smiled sweetly and, in her most flirtatious voice (scary, that) said, "That's Shakespeare, isn't it?"

Gasping, absolutely convinced he was going to break a rib, John stood up. "I'm going to go help Jack," he muttered, and headed for the door.

Donna looked baffled and Shakespeare looked poleaxed. John closed the door behind him, got three whole steps down the hall, and then collapsed with a howl of mirth.

The Doctor was there in less than a heart-beat. "Are you all right?" he asked, urgently.

John was sometimes amazed that he and the alien sounded so alike. He looked up at the Doctor, brushing at the tears streaming down his face. "She's killing me," he croaked, and chortled merrily.

"Agh!" the Doctor exclaimed, disgusted. "I thought you were hurt."

"I am!" John laughed. "She's going to make my brain explode!"

The Doctor rubbed at the back of his neck. "Yeah," he said, "well, but she's like that, your sister. What's she done, now?"

John, through gasping breaths and having to stop to snicker, finally managed to tell the story. The Time Lord gaped at him in open-mouthed shock and then the Doctor was on the floor next to him and they were laughing together.

Jack appeared then, and snickered at the pair of them. "What'd she do to you this time?" he asked, cheerfully.

"C'mon," the Doctor said, and twisted himself into an alarming configuration to vault to his feet, "let's go rescue the poor man."

John didn't have that ability. He and the Doctor looked a lot alike, but John was human, not alien, and when he'd been gasping for breath, he needed help to get up. Jack offered an arm and John took it warily, letting the immortal pull him to his feet. Sometimes, he honestly suspected Jack had designs on his twin. But every once in awhile, like now, he would catch Jack eying him speculatively and he didn't want to know.

He would object to Jack's intentions toward Donna, but she seemed to be nursing a crush on him, anyway. Besides, her last relationship had ended so horribly for her that John thought she deserved any fun she wanted to have. As long as Jack didn't toy with her affections, like that utter bastard, Lance, had done (even before he turned out to be completely evil), they would get along fine. (Their mum never did believe any of Donna's story but John got to hear the whole thing, so he did, even before John and Donna had finally caught up with the Doctor.)

He clearly remembered standing by the punch bowl at Donna's reception watching Lance and Nerys dance, and wanting to wring the bastard's neck. Then the Doctor and Donna had turned up and John had gotten side-tracked from joining the adventures because someone had to pull Sylvia off the ceiling. Donna had arrived home for Christmas dinner and the next day, John and Donna set off on the trip that was originally supposed to have been her honeymoon. They'd had to change the reservations, but what the hell, they'd had the time of their lives, just the Noble twins and fun in the sun.

John admitted to anyone who asked that he was protective of Donna. He'd been shy as a child and Donna had talked for him until she finally managed to help him overcome the shyness altogether. He called her "princess" and meant it, because their mum called her "lady" and didn't. If Donna didn't still live with Mum and Grand-dad, he wasn't entirely sure he'd still be on speaking terms with the woman.

After Donna's ruined wedding, everything had been completely normal, until Donna got back from her package tour to Egypt explaining that she'd had enough, she was going to find the Doctor. John, whom she had once jokingly claimed got all of the brains allotted to both of them, did everything he could to help her. Everything he could do turned out to be rather impressive, as he'd only been questioned by UNIT once and he'd hacked their files six times. (Jack had also almost caught him once, back before they knew each other, but he'd gotten out of the Torchwood system in time.)

So he knew an awful lot more about the Doctor than he probably should know. Still, they'd hunted for the man (alien) all over hell and creation, and only found him when the Daleks had invaded. John clearly remembered making a right idiot of himself over the woman who had appeared in the street to rescue them from a Dalek. Well, but she was incredible, really, and he'd had no choice but to fall arse over tea-kettle for her, and also over the curb of the street as he'd turned to show her to his mum's house.

Still, she was missing now, and he'd never have a chance with her, anyway. She was...

"TARDIS to John, come in please," Jack's voice repeated firmly. Then, he sighed. "It's no good, Doc, I'm gonna have to resuscitate him. His brain's gone walkies."

"Oi!" John snapped. "You keep your resuscitation to yourself, Space Captain!"

"Well, you were certainly staring at me like you were interested in something. Sure I can't come by your room later?"

"Shut up," John grumbled, jerked a hand through the back of his ginger hair, and stalked back down the hall to the library. The ship had moved the door a little ways, apparently, while he and the Doctor had been laughing. He crossed his fingers, and shoved the door open.

* * *

"What was that about?" Jack asked the Doctor quietly.

The Doctor glanced over his shoulder to make sure John was still heading for the library and not listening to them. "It's going to be like that for awhile, I'm afraid. His brain has to invent things that didn't really happen. It's a good thing he's still a genius or I've no idea how he'd handle the assimilation of this entire lifetime of cover-story memories. It's different for Donna - she just has to edit an extra person in, he's got to change his entire point of view.

"Most of it's from where his and Donna's minds were linked right before..." The Doctor looked away sharply, blinking at the ceiling for a moment, cleared his throat, and then looked back at Jack. "He and Donna must have created an accidental history for him, because she can ask him if he remembers anything at all, like a lemonade stand when they were seven, and he does."

"What will you do when they demand to see their family?"

"Call Wilf," the Doctor said, and shrugged. "Nothing else I can do, really. Besides, John likes Sylvia even less than Donna does. He's still got a bit of me on that, I guess, and interpreted it to blame her for Donna not reaching anything like her full potential."

"And you know all of this because?"

"He talks to me," the Doctor said with a resigned sigh. "His body's still adjusting to being human, so some nights, he's not able to sleep. He just wanders into the Console Room and starts chattering away at a mile a minute. He's wonderful to have around, Jack, but he drives me mad doing that."

"I wonder why," said Jack and rolled his eyes.

The Doctor pouted.

* * *

John reached the library then and shoved the door open, and all at once the corridors were ringing with the sounds of joyous laughter.

"So what did you say?" asked Shakespeare, looking positively delighted with every word out of Donna's mouth. He was wiping tears of mirth from his face.

The Doctor was as relieved as he was surprised about that.

She stood up, threw her shoulders back, and grinned that same ecstatic grin she had given the Doctor when he took her on holiday to Midnight. She didn't remember any of that, but it was ok. Considering the damage that could have been done, with a Time Lord weapon harbored in her soul, the loss of their adventures was a pain he could endure. Thanks to John's sacrifice, she could at least stay with him. He didn't have to be alone.

If only it hadn't cost them... never mind. They would find her, even if they had to scour the entire Universe.

"Well, I gave her one of yours, didn't I?" said Donna. "_Veni, vidi, vici_."

Jack laughed uproariously. "I always preferred '_vidi, vici, veni_', myself."

"JACK!!" both the Doctor and John snapped simultaneously.

"What?" Jack asked innocently.

"That isn't one of mine," said Shakespeare. "It's good, but I don't usually need Latin."

"Julius Ceasar," the Doctor said, ignoring the fact that he was right, it wasn't one of his.

Shakespeare shrugged. "What about him?"

The Doctor's eyes widened. "You haven't written that one, yet?"

"No," said Shakespeare. "Why would I? It doesn't even sound interesting. No one would come to see it, surely."

"It's 1604 out there, right?" the Doctor said, pointing at the door.

"Yes," Shakespeare agreed.

"Oh, this is bad." The Doctor looked at John, and John nodded.

"1599 was the estimated date on it," he said.

"Oi!" interrupted Donna, "what're you on about?"

"Missing a play!" the Doctor said. "An important play!"

"Sounds like something Ben Johnson would write to me," said Shakespeare. "All politicians and deadly dull speeches!"

"No, no, nonono," the Doctor exclaimed. "No, it isn't dull, it's a bit brilliant, really. It's all about manipulation and cleverness and words, such beautiful words! 'Beware the Ides of March, Et tu, Brute'..."

"'I come to bury Ceasar, not to praise him!'" John added insistently.

"Yes!" the Doctor agreed, bouncing a bit. "And, well there was the bit about the waistcoat, but I'll let you off on that one, although I've never been sure about the chimneys."

"There weren't chimneys in Rome, were there?" asked Jack.

"No," said the Doctor. He shrugged. "But there are in London, so we can let it go, I guess."

"I'm not writing it," said Shakespeare, and yawned. "I came to tell a story and to have a drink."

"But... but you HAVE to," the Doctor pleaded.

"No," said Shakespeare. "Write it yourself."

"NO!" shouted John, Donna, and Jack, while the Doctor considered.

The Doctor felt like pouting, so he did.

"What are we supposed to do?" John asked. "I mean, you're a Time Lord. If something's wrong with time, you have to fix it, don't you?"

"Time changes," the Doctor said, trying to test the time lines to see how and why this was happening and what effect it could have.

"But it's in the established body of work," Jack added. "Time Agent," he reminded the Doctor when the Time Lord shot him a dirty look.

"It's simple, innit?" said Donna, shrugging. "Just show him."

"What?" asked John, looking thunderstruck.

"It's a TIME MACHINE, genius boy!" she snapped. "God, wake up and smell the onus."

"Aladdin," John said.

"So?" she demanded, then ignored him, turning to the Doctor instead. "Would it work?" she asked.

"Donna," said the Doctor, "it's a very, very bad idea." Then, he grinned. "I love it."

"Thought you might," she said. "God, you're just like my brother some times."

The Doctor snorted. "Well, Shakespeare, if we prove you wrong, will you write?"

"That's appalling," said Shakespeare. "I wouldn't have that one for a gift. But what are you doing?"

"Care to see ancient Rome?"

"What about my story?" he asked.

"And our drinks?" Jack added, just on principle.

"They'll keep," the Doctor said, and waved them off. "This won't wait."

"Then, I'd love to," Shakespeare said. "But you're buying me a drink before I go home."

"Fine," the Doctor said urgently, "that's just fine." He turned to Jack to get him to go start in the Console Room, but found the immortal pouting at him, now. "What's your problem?" he demanded.

"Why does he get a drink, and I have to buy you one?" he asked.

"Whatever," the Doctor said. "Take John with you and you two put us in the Vortex. I'll be there in a minute and, if this all works out, you can buy me a drink, all right?"

"Fantastic," Jack proclaimed, snatched John's arm, and bounded off to the console room.

"What was that about?" Donna asked.

The Doctor sighed.


	3. Chapter 3

**As I am a professional writer and have work to do to get paid, I have decided to deal with these thudding plot bunnies in the traditional manner - I will inflict them on others. Please see my Profile for the Challenges of the Month. Brand new September challenges have been issued for your entertainment, education, and inspiration. If you'd rather do August's, instead, please feel free to do so. Thanks to all those who have participated thus far - I've REALLY enjoyed all the results. The new challenges will run through the end of September. Please let me know when you respond to a Challenge so I can read and review.  
**

As a request for July II, **mysterypoet66 **asked me for this one, which was meant to be a sequel to "The Shakespeare Code". It got out of hand with me because Donna and Jack were the specified companions. Since I couldn't have them in the same place without going AU, I went completely AU. Welcome to yet another Universe of mine, wherein the events of Journey's End went one of the ways I think would have been better.

What I'm supposed to have is Donna & Jack, the explanation behind the Queen's Wrath, several specific quotes from Shakespeare, and a cream pie sans crack. What I have is Shakespeare... oh, it's complicated, you'll have to read it.

_This one is multi-chaptered. Updates may take a few days because all research is being done carefully and with loving dedication to historical accuracy. Wish me luck, I'll need it. And yes, every chapter will have a Shakespearean title._

* * *

**A Bardic Tale**

_Chapter 3: The Winter's Tale_

"Here we are then," said the Doctor. "February 13th. Rome. 44BC."

Jack grinned and shot him a look across the console. "What, seriously?"

The Doctor groaned as he realized. Jack, not to be deterred, flung open the door, stuck his Vortex Manipulator outside, and punched a few buttons. Drawing it back inside, he looked at the reading and then shot the Doctor another salacious look. "Lupercalia!" he bellowed, ecstatically.

The Doctor sighed.

Jack's clothes went flying. Donna gasped at the sight, John gawked, and Shakespeare sat back in the Captain's chair, laughing merrily. The Doctor shook his head, trying to decide if he needed to put a hand over John's eyes, or Donna's. Or both. He did have two hands, after all. Three, if you counted the one that had been turned into John Noble.

He needed to invent a word for "inexplicable event caused by a multitude of unlikely coincidences". Something with "meta" in it. "Meta" was always a good turn of phrase for "doesn't make sense".

Jack snatched Donna, snogged her hard, grabbed a spluttering, gaping John and treated him to the same. As soon as Jack released him, John went back to sputtering and gaping, with the addition of the startled fish lip movements. The Doctor would have taken a few moments to resolve to himself not to make that expression any more, but he had to dodge behind Shakespeare to get away from Jack.

Shakespeare accepted Jack's kiss with equanimity and moved out of the way so Jack could get to the Doctor. The Time Lord dodged the now naked (except for his wrist strap) Captain and folded his arms across his chest. "Not until you buy me a drink," he insisted.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Lord, what fools these mortals be!"

Shakespeare laughed. "That's one of mine," he said. "Oh, but it suits you so." Jack shot the Bard a glowing, boyish smile.

The Doctor sternly pointed at the door. "Go on," he said. "You won't be happy unless you do."

"Catch you later," Jack said and bolted.

The Doctor sighed. "Well, that's the last we'll see of him for two days." Then, it occurred to him what he'd tentatively agreed to before they'd landed in Rome. "On the plus side," he said cheerfully, "he won't be going into any pubs until he's gotten back, gotten sober, and been deloused."

"I don't know about you, Space-man," Donna said, "but if that's the last I see of him, it was a great view!"

John, looking very much like he couldn't help himself, nodded. The Doctor groaned. "Not you, too!"

"What?" John demanded, indignantly. "I'm as human as the next bloke."

Donna chortled. "That's Captain Fancy-All you're talking about, Genius-Boy. The next bloke's liable to be green and from Jupiter."

"Oh, how I wish that I could write about him," said Shakespeare. "He is a character worthy of such exquisite verse."

"Please don't tell him that," the Doctor begged. "It'll only go to his head."

"He makes a lovely Puck to your Oberon, Doctor," John put in.

"Trust me, John Noble," said the Doctor, "the day I decide to turn someone into an ass, they're going to stay that way." He sighed then, and snatched Jack's boxers off the console.

Donna laughed at them, as they had Marvin the Martian on them. The Doctor stuffed them into Jack's coat, which he picked up and folded neatly over the guard rail. "Right, you lot, wardrobe." He rattled off the directions, which had Donna smacking the back of his head before he was half-way through.

"Ow," he said, and rubbed the back of his head. "All right, down the hall, third left."

"Thank you," said Donna snarkily and the other two gracefully followed her. She stopped in the doorway and turned to her brother. "Don't you even think about dressing the same as Jack. You're not running around with your bits showing."

John blushed flaming crimson. So did the Doctor. He had absolutely no idea of how fully identical their bodies actually were and didn't want to know.

"Bill," she added, surprisingly flirtatious, "you can do what you like."

* * *

John grinned and adjusted his simple white toga and tunic as he watched Donna carp and fuss over her layered stolla and palla. "Leave it alone," he said. "You look fine. Honestly."

"How'm I s'posed to move wrapped up in all this?"

"You're meant to have had a life time of practice, Princess. Quit playing with it or you'll look out of place."

The Doctor looked up from the console as they entered and grinned at them. He was still in his suit, hadn't conceded to even a tunic. "Aren't you changing?" Donna asked.

"No one notices his clothes, Donna," John explained. "No one even notices him unless he draws attention in some way."

The Doctor blinked. "Now, how'd you know that?" he asked.

"Observation," John replied, shrugging.

"Now, that's clever," the Doctor said, admiringly, and John felt like he'd been given a real compliment.

"Gonna be a tough day for you boys," said Donna, with a sigh. "Three geniuses and me."

"You're brilliant," the Doctor and John both jumped in immediately. They grinned at each other. John really liked that the Doctor treated his sister with such respect. People rarely recognized that Donna was really of above average intelligence, and more to the point had more common sense than just about any one.

"One of us really ought to call Granddad," John told Donna.

"You do it," she said. "I wanted to see where Bill got off to."

"You just want to get out there to see if you can catch a peek at Jack," John accused. Nevertheless, he turned to head back to his room for his mobile.

The Doctor snagged Donna's off the console where she'd left it. "I'll fix it for you, Donna, and give Wilf a call. Don't want you two to miss anything. Erm... John, can you put Donna's hair up for her?"

"What?" said Donna.

"I get a bit tired of you demanding to know if you look single - and you will with your hair down. Get it off your shoulders, at least."

"What makes you think my brother can do my hair, Space-man?" Donna demanded.

John sighed. "'Cuz we grew up together and you were a right little bully when we were young," he said, though he did wonder if there was some particular reason the Doctor's cheeks turned a bit pink on that point. "C'mon, let's do that."

When he finally got Donna to bring him her brush and his gel and, more to the point, hold still long enough, he put her hair up in a french twist with curls in the ends. "There now, darling, you look fantastic!" he exclaimed, in his best complete ponce impersonation.

For some reason, this made the Doctor fall over laughing.

The console room door opened and Shakespeare sketched an ornate and careful bow, his richly styled tunic radiant in the light from the console. "How'd you get her to do that?" the Doctor asked.

Shakespeare, standing in his vivid, sparkling spotlight, just laughed.

* * *

The Doctor led the small group out to the temple steps, where soon Julius Caesar and Mark Antony would have their historic attempted presentation.

"I wanna be the soothsayer!" John exclaimed as they joined the large crowd already gathered. They went completely unnoticed, appearing as two Roman citizens, a foreign dignitary and an unremarkable patch of empty air that ought to be avoided.

"You stand still and cause no trouble," the Doctor ordered. "And answer Donna's question, I'm busy with some jiggery pokery."

"Right, ok," John agreed, and started talking softly, in the exact same tone the Doctor himself used when lecturing. The Time Lord shook his head and dug out the sonic screwdriver. "Lupercalia. Thought to be descended from a Greek holiday. Really, Donna, you ought to know this. Rome was founded by the twins Romulus and Remus, who were raised by a she-wolf. This holiday is in her honor."

"Just a couple of twins, what's fancy about that?"

"Multiple births, first of all," said John, "are pretty much revered in any primitive society. Even modern societies are fascinated by them. We're s'posed to be able to read each other's minds and things."

"I can read your mind, Genius-boy," Donna said caustically. "You're thinking about food or chattering my ear off, one or the other."

"I think about other things," John insisted.

"Like what?" she demanded, eyeing him with her hands placed, dangerously, on her hips.

"Lupercalia," John continued, as if she'd never interrupted him. "They sacrifice a goat and a dog. Then two boys are anointed with the blood and some new milk and are expect to laugh and cheer afterwards. A lot of scholars think it's meant to be a token of human sacrifice, but that's ridiculous."

"Obviously," agreed Shakespeare. "They're meant to represent the twins, and the blood and milk are meant to represent birth."

"Exactly, thank you," said John, beaming at Shakespeare. "What he said," he added to Donna. "Anyway, men and boys go running around in their birthday suits with thongs made of the goat's skin, and they strike the hands of the crowd for luck and health. Women are supposed to be made fertile, and pregnant women will supposedly have an easier time with labor."

"Sounds disgusting. Except the naked men, I like that part."

"You would," said John, with rolled eyes.

"Hang on, how come these two kids were raised by a wolf?"

Shakespeare shook his head. So did John, but continued the story all the same. "Their mother was Rhea Silva, a vestal virgin. She was burnt at the stake for getting pregnant, as that's sort of an easy indicator that she'd not kept up the virgin part of her duties. The babies were abandoned on the mountain where the wolf found them."

"That's horrible!" said Donna. "What'd they do to the bloke?" Of course, Donna expected fair play. If the woman was executed, the man should be too, in her opinion.

"Mars?" asked Shakespeare. "What can men do to a god?"

"And he let her be executed? I mean, if her lover's the god of war, couldn't he stop them, save her?"

"Some stories don't say she was his lover. Some say she was his victim," the Doctor said quietly.

"Oh," said Donna, in a tiny voice. Then, she glared around at the crowd in general. "Sometimes I hate history."

John hugged her. "I'm sorry," he said. "It's a myth, you don't have to be upset about it."

"Thanks," she said softly, and hugged back.

The Doctor stepped away from his little group, where he could still watch them, but wouldn't be overheard. He couldn't explain to John and Donna why he wanted to call Wilf, and he definitely couldn't explain why he would only mention Donna to the old man. John didn't exist, except in Donna's mind. Well, obviously, he did, but Donna's ginger-haired twin brother had been an accidentally cloned Time Lord a week ago.

Sighing, the Doctor dialed the number from the mobile's memory, hoping that Wilf would answer, as he had no desire to deal with Sylvia in any way at the moment. Unfortunately, luck wasn't with him.

"Hello, Sylvia," he said, morosely. "Can I talk to Wilf?"

"Oh," she said crossly. "Are we back to THAT now? Fine. You can talk to him, maybe he can get you to see sense." Then she apparently laid down the phone, with a quick yell of, "Dad, pick up the phone!"

As none of her statements made any sense, the Doctor doubted Wilf would be of much assistance. His time sense suddenly tensed inside his skull, time lines skewed and jangled and vibrated around him like plucked chords. The Doctor looked sharply around, but there didn't seem to be anything wrong in the crowd. Everyone was cheering the General as he arrived for his Triumph, no one had noticed the Doctor's three, and there was no sign of trouble from the TARDIS. He had to conclude, then, that the trouble was probably back at Donna's home and he was about to find out about it.

Ducky.

Wilf's whuffling wheeze could be heard on the other end of the line. The Doctor tutted. Really needed to look at the old man's lungs, see if he couldn't do something to help. It might be cheating, but Donna loved her grandfather, and it wasn't fair for time to take him from her so soon.

"Hush, Sylvia, I'll talk to him," said Wilf, apparently without the phone at his mouth. And then, his voice came clearly through the line and every hair on the back of the Doctor's neck stood up. "John? Is that you, son?"


	4. Chapter 4

**As I am a professional writer and have work to do to get paid, I have decided to deal with these thudding plot bunnies in the traditional manner - I will inflict them on others. Please see my Profile for the Challenges of the Month. Brand new September challenges have been issued for your entertainment, education, and inspiration. If you'd rather do August's, instead, please feel free to do so. Thanks to all those who have participated thus far - I've REALLY enjoyed all the results. The new challenges will run through the end of September. Please let me know when you respond to a Challenge so I can read and review.  
**

As a request for July II, **mysterypoet66** asked me for this one, which was meant to be a sequel to "The Shakespeare Code". It got out of hand with me because Donna and Jack were the specified companions. Since I couldn't have them in the same place without going AU, I went completely AU. Welcome to yet another Universe of mine, wherein the events of Journey's End went one of the ways I think would have been better.

What I'm supposed to have is Donna & Jack, the explanation behind the Queen's Wrath, several specific quotes from Shakespeare, and a cream pie sans crack. What I have is Shakespeare... oh, it's complicated, you'll have to read it.

_This one is multi-chaptered. Updates may take a few days because all research is being done carefully and with loving dedication to historical accuracy. Wish me luck, I'll need it. And yes, every chapter will have a Shakespearean title._

**As so often happens, I have to say thanks to Olfactory Ventriloquism for her help which sparked this whole bit. Life-saver, OV, just let me tell you. Thanks, luv, you're a genius!!**

* * *

**A Bardic Tale**

_Chapter 4: Measure for Measure_

Shakespeare seemed utterly fascinated by the speech taking place before them. Unfortunately, John thought, it was for the entirely wrong reason. "This is ridiculous," he muttered. "These men have little sense of rhythm, style, proper voice placement. I can see that the crowd is fascinated, but there is so much more a man could do with that voice."

"Maybe it's getting lost in translation?" John offered.

"I expect it must be," Shakespeare agreed with a sigh. "I fail to find it at all stirring.

"So fix it," snapped Donna. "If you don't think it's presented right, then rewrite it the way you think it ought to sound."

John really, really loved her. He grinned.

Shakespeare shrugged. "I very well may just do that," he agreed. "Where has the Doctor gone, then? I thought he wished us to see this, and that he should wish to see it as well."

"He's calling our grandfather for us," Donna said. "Dunno why, but he said he didn't want us to miss it."

"He wants Shakespeare to hear it, remember?"

"Oh, right," said Donna. She looked around at the cheering crowd. "I'm with you, Bill, I don't see what the deal is."

"Hah," said John. "He's a great general and he's just returned in Triumph from a great campaign. He's also famous. Antony's offering him the crown of King and the crowd are cheering him on. Don't you ever read?"

"Rude," said Donna.

"Yep," agreed John, popping the 'p', "rude and ginger. It's fun. And when this breaks up, they're off to the celebrations." He grinned at Shakespeare. "Where there's many a gentle person made a Jack."

"You're not funny," said Donna, grimly.

"No," said Shakespeare, twinkling at them both. "But he does steal from the best."

"And you're not arrogant at all," said John, pouting.

* * *

"Sorry, Wilf," said the Doctor, when he finally found his voice. It had been curled up in his throat, squeaking in alarm and trembling. "Not John. This is the Doctor. I told... erm... Donna... I told Donna I'd call you."

"Oh," said Wilf, "you and John sound exactly alike, you know. And I don't think Sylvia knows about you, not very much. Although she said she mistook you for John at Donna's wedding."

Now, the Time Lord's stomach was also doing unusual things. He decided he'd blame that on Jack's cooking, as it was only slightly better than it had ever been. The last time he'd had Jack as a companion, Jack had once managed to burn cold cuts. Last night, he'd done a green salad. Maybe it hadn't been meant to be green.

The Doctor pushed that away and cleared his throat. "Right. Well, I've... erm... I've brought the twins to ancient Rome. They probably want to know if you need a souvenir or anything."

The Doctor could clearly hear Wilf's smile. "No, that's all right. Love to have pictures, though. We've so few of John around. He won't stay still for the camera, never has, not even when he was little."

The Doctor's brain was trying to find a corner of his skull to cower in. "Wasn't he in Donna's wedding?" the Doctor asked experimentally.

"Yeah, he was going to give her away, but she disappeared, remember? Halfway up the aisle, and John was standing there, by himself. Sylvia thought it was a prank, but John said if it had been a prank, he would have been in on it."

"Probably," the Doctor agreed, leaning against the nearest wall, as he had a feeling his legs weren't going to support him. "But wasn't he in the wedding photos, then?"

"Might've been, except Donna chucked them."

The Doctor imagined that, even in the actual reality. It made him smile. "I'm sure she did." He heard a great cheer go up from the crowd, and then it looked like everyone started to disperse. "Sorry to keep chattering away at you, Wilf. Just, Donna and John are safe and with me and Jack and Shakespeare, and I promise I'll try to keep them out of trouble."

"Good. I'll tell Sylvia it wasn't John. I think she wants him to pretend to like her. Wait, Shakespeare? The Shakespeare?"

"Yeah," the Doctor agreed.

"I'd love to meet him," Wilf said admiringly.

The Doctor smiled. "I'll get you his autograph, I promise."

"Thank you, Doctor. You look after them."

"I will, Wilf," he promised, and rang off. Then, he leaned against the wall, the mobile up to his head, and tried to sort out how this could possibly have happened.

* * *

Dropping Jackie off in the parallel world with promises he might take an eternity to keep had been hard. In the end, they'd both cried, but that was fine, because only Jack remained to witness it, and the immortal had been crying, too. Sarah Jane had gone home to her son, Mickey and Martha to Torchwood to tell them Jack would be back soon.

Then he and Jack had taken turns standing over Donna and the other Doctor's beds and working at the TARDIS computers, trying to calculate the nigh infinite possibilities of the Time Storm that had taken her. She was somewhere, some when, in this vast and expansive Universe, and if it took him the rest of his lives, he would find her.

She had come back for him, time after time, against all odds and then some. It was his turn to come back for her, one more time, after all these years.

He had just crumbled up a page of calculations, swearing at it because it refused to tell him anything he wanted to know, when he felt eyes watching him. He turned to the bed and met, not the identical deep brown he expected, but that same golden green that usually peered out of Donna's face. He'd noticed briefly earlier that the other Doctor's hair had changed color, but if he thought anything of it, it was a passing random note that maybe he was better off not ginger after all.

The eyes were the second of many thunderous shocks, and they came thick and fast after that.

"Sorry," he apologized. "Don't try to move, yet. Do you know where you are?"

"Um... not really, no," his own voice answered. "But you must be the Doctor. Donna said we could use each other for shaving mirrors, and she wasn't half right." His own grin appeared, a completely identical, familiar expression, only... different, somehow.

The Doctor nodded weakly, and looked more closely at Donna's eyes in his own face. There was no sign whatsoever of the Rassilon Imprinitur, which had very clearly been present before he flung himself into the center of Donna's chaos.

"Sorry," the obviously former Time Lord said. "We haven't been properly introduced. I'm Donna's brother, John."

"Oh... kay," said the Doctor, moving closer. "I... nice to meet you, properly, John Noble."

"Well, Donna's been trying to catch up to you for so long, I feel as if I practically know you already. You were at her reception, as I remember. I was busy scraping Mum off the ceiling, so I didn't get to hear about any of this 'til afterwards. Draining the Thames, though, brilliant."

"Thanks," said the Doctor, and smiled hesitantly back at the young man. "Let's just do a quick check on your vitals," he said, "and then I'll see about letting you up."

"Only a fool argues with his Doctor," the self-proclaimed John said cheekily.

A quick twitch of the sonic screwdriver revealed yet another astounding fact. John Noble was, for all intents and purposes, completely, inarguably, human.

"Right," the Doctor said. "Looks very good to me, but if you don't mind, I'd like to check your heart."

John nodded, ginger hair getting further mussed against the white pillows. "I've always had a bit of a murmur, nothing serious. Just so you know."

The Doctor pulled out his stethoscope. One heart beat steady and strong. Well, but he'd only had one before, why would that have changed?

Still.

The Doctor put the stethoscope away, deliberately knocked over his tablet, and swore at it in angry, chiming Gallifreyan, all the while watching the young man out the corner of his eye.

"I'm sorry," John said, "what language is that?"

"Eh, sorry. That's my own language. Usually don't use it. TARDIS won't translate it."

"TARDIS? Oh. Your ship."

"Yeah, stands for Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. My grand daughter named it."

And that was also a surprise, because he hadn't mentioned Susan except once since the Time War, and that was to Rose. But telling John seemed perfectly reasonable and natural.

"How old are you?" John asked in some surprise.

The Doctor forced a smile. "Ever so much older than twenty," he replied.

"Peter Pan," John shot back.

"Hum. Well, you don't seem to have suffered any brain damage. But let's check."

He scribbled a few maths problems - some really basic ones, one excruciatingly advanced one, one only he could solve in all the Universe (because it required temporal mathematics) and one even he couldn't solve.

John jotted, in an identical, barely legible scrawl, the answers to the basic ones, the excruciatingly advanced one, and then sat puzzling over the temporal one. "Humph. Need a different kind of math for this. Something quantum, or... I dunno. Looks like you'd need to be able to think in four dimensions for this to work."

He skipped that one, looked at the last one, turned it over, scrapped half the variables, rewrote the equation, and then got stuck.

"Impressive," the Doctor said, when he caught his jaw.

"Didn't Donna mention I'm brilliant?" asked John, green eyes sparkling as brightly as the brown eyes watching them.

"She might've, yeah. But... what's your IQ?" Humans tested those, as if you could always find brilliant people by some random number on a page.

"Dunno," said John. "S'off the charts, anyway. I'm a genius, but..." John looked nervous now. "I don't like to bandy that about, you know," he said quietly, as if he were confiding a deep, dark secret he never told anyone.

"Ah," said the Doctor.

"Just... maybe it's because we look alike, or because Donna trusts you. I don't mind telling you things, but I really don't like to talk about it."

"OK, then we won't, much," agreed the Doctor. "Quick question, though. How many languages do you know?"

"Funny you should say that," John replied sheepishly. "I just seem to pick them up."

The Doctor grinned. "Me, too," he confided. "And that's not normal where I come from, either."

John grinned back and they were friends, just like that.

* * *

The Doctor shook his head. After that, he and Jack had carefully quizzed Donna, moreso than John, on what was going on. Quizzing John, he knew he'd better do himself. Jack was immortal and cunning, but the not-a-Time-Lord was a genius by human standards, dead gifted even by Time Lord ones, and that put him a couple of rungs above Jack on the cleverness ladder.

All the same, he'd still come to the Doctor the third night and demanded to know what was wrong. Thankfully, the Doctor had been able to put him off with a vast amount of quasi-plausible temporal techno-babble and Doctor-typical double-speak. Mind, John had eventually translated the lot of it down to, "So you suspect there may be eddies in the time stream?"

Wait. That was it! Between them, the twins had been at least one and three-quarters Time Lords at the moment John Noble had been created. All of that temporal energy had been sacrificed, along with Donna's memories of the intervening months she'd travelled with the Doctor, in order to save Donna's sanity and John's presumptive and dubious existence, and still remove the Time Lord weaponry from Donna's psyche. It had generated a Time Storm, a real one, the likes of which he hadn't seen since his seventh incarnation.

His face fell. That didn't explain it all, though. The Time Storm, for all that it was an enormously powerful temporal cyclone, had only done one thing.

It had cost them her.

She'd been pulled in, jerked away, flung off into the Universe, somewhere, somewhen, out of his reach, beyond his ability to track her. And he never got to tell her... what the Other Doctor had told him to tell her right before he dove in to save Donna. He'd never even gotten to ask her how in the name of Rassilon and any other lost and lesser godling she had managed to do everything she did to rescue the Universe from a Donna-less time line.

And now, no one remembered it, at all, except her. Well, he remembered some of it, but only the ending, when she'd summoned him back to Earth by using, one last time, the Bad Wolf.

His head shot up, and before he even knew it, he was standing back in front of the temple, with John and Donna and Shakespeare. It was Lupercalia, in celebration of a she-wolf who had broken from her pack and saved twin human children, when no one even suspected they should exist.

A very bad wolf, indeed.

His own voice, reverent and hesitant, spoke from right behind him, one word that might someday soon be enough to break him. _"Rose."_


	5. Chapter 5

**As I am a professional writer and have work to do to get paid, I have decided to deal with these thudding plot bunnies in the traditional manner - I will inflict them on others. Please see my Profile for the Challenges of the Month. This month's October Challenges have been added to keep you amused, bemused, or just plain disconcerted. If you'd rather do September's, please feel free! The new challenges will run through the end of October. Please let me know when you respond to a Challenge so I can read and review.**

As a request for July II, **mysterypoet66** asked me for this one, which was meant to be a sequel to "The Shakespeare Code". It got out of hand with me because Donna and Jack were the specified companions. Since I couldn't have them in the same place without going AU, I went completely AU. Welcome to yet another Universe of mine, wherein the events of Journey's End went one of the ways I think would have been better.

What I'm supposed to have is Donna & Jack, the explanation behind the Queen's Wrath, several specific quotes from Shakespeare, and a cream pie sans crack. What I have is Shakespeare... oh, it's complicated, you'll have to read it.

_This one is multi-chaptered. Updates may take a few days because all research is being done carefully and with loving dedication to historical accuracy. Wish me luck, I'll need it. And yes, every chapter will have a Shakespearean title._

**Thanks to OV, still, and tons of thanks to Sam.**

* * *

**A Bardic Tale**

_Chapter 5: Love's Labour's Lost_

Jack joined in with the revelers, and he was the talk of the scene. His too-white teeth, his perfect but un-oiled physique, his vividly green eyes, they made him stand out in the crowd. His complexion was unique, too, as he'd forgotten to set the "notice-me-not" parameters of his Vortex Manipulator.

Any day now, the Doctor was going to break it again. He thought he'd been unreasoningly polite in not telling the Time Lord that, if he'd just left Jack the teleport function, he could have saved Jack nearly a thousand years in a self-induced stasis under Cardiff.

The things Jack had learned, though, while letting his body stay in the hole and his mind wander the Universe... Jack wouldn't have traded the experience, not really. He'd been taught that trick a long time ago in strictly linear terms, and he was almost infinitely grateful for it now.

He would have been stark, raving mad without it.

He ran through the crowds, striking the grasping, reaching hands of the women and girls with the thongs he'd acquired, laughing and cheering. It had been too long since he'd had a chance to wander around anywhere naked without being arrested.

He had thought the Doctor would have protested this harder, but he was glad the Time Lord gave in graciously. There was something a little right in running around celebrating in honor of a she wolf.

Jack nearly tripped as he thought about it. A she wolf. A mother wolf, raising Rhea Silva's children. Jack waited until they came to a lull in the crowd and ducked away.

"Excuse me?" a small girl's voice called.

Jack looked down and resisted the urge to cover himself. It was nothing new under the sun to this child. Men in this time still ran sporting events with skin for uniforms, after all.

There was a young girl of perhaps seven staring up at him, her face a picture. She was a pretty child with shining dark eyes, and Jack wondered where she'd come from. "Are you lost?" Jack asked kindly.

She shook her head slowly. "No, I'm not," she said, softly, continuing to stare at him with awestruck eyes. "Are you a god?" she finally managed to ask him.

Jack grinned. If an adult had asked him, he would have assured them that he was. As it was, he decided not to lie to the child. "No, I'm just a traveler."

She sighed. "Oh. I needed a god."

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked, kindly. "Maybe I can help."

"It's just..." She frowned. "My mother has disappeared, and my sister, and my other sister, and my father isn't acting normal at all. I thought, if you were a god, maybe you could help. But you're not... are you sure you're not? You look like one."

Jack nodded. "I'm sure, love," he apologized. "But I still might be able to help you. I'd just need to get some clothes. Can you tell me where your house is? I have some friends who could help us look for your family. One of them is a Doctor, and he could tell us what's wrong with your father."

"Oh!" she exclaimed in wonder. "Oh, but you are a god, then. That's what the seer said, that my god would bring me a physician and everything."

"I'm still not a god," Jack apologized. "But I am a very clever man with friends. And one of them might be a god, I suppose, but don't tell him I told you that. My name's Jack. What's yours?"

"I'm Portia," she said softly, and reached up to take his hand. "Please, Jack. Be my god."

For some unfathomable reason, Jack was reminded suddenly of Rose. He smiled at the tiny girl and realized, in that instant, that he would probably never refuse her anything.

"I'll do my very best," he promised. "Just let me go find my friends. Are you coming?"

"Yes, please," said Portia. She grinned at him and her tongue poked out through her teeth.

Yep, just like Rose. Oh, he was doomed.

* * *

The Doctor walked up the temple steps and Donna watched him, completely at a loss for what to do. He had looked so strange - shaky and frightened and sad - when he'd heard John say her name.

"Is she there?" Donna demanded of her brother, because she didn't see anything.

"For a moment," John said, sounding almost completely defeated. "I... I thought I saw her, but maybe not. I don't know." He sighed and raked his hands through his hair, making it stand on end. Their mum used to hate that gesture, but Donna found it entertaining, and the Doctor did it all the time, too. "I'm just... I'll just go over there for a bit."

He wandered across the courtyard, still within plain sight, which was good, because Donna didn't like him to be alone when he was hurting. It wasn't good for him. John could brood for England if you let him. He and the Doctor were a lot alike, really, which was strange to her, but helped her understand her alien friend very, very well.

She turned to Shakespeare. "This is hell," she said.

"This girl is the pain in the Doctor's eyes?"

"Yeah," said Donna. "And my idiot brother had to go and fall for her, too. Not as hard, I don't think. Genius-boy's not stupid, he knows he'll get over it, but I sorta think he blames himself for them losing her."

"The burden of having a clever mind, Donna," said Shakespeare calmly, comfortingly, "is something I'm certain you've come to understand. There is always, always the thought that you should have been able to do something, anything, about many a tragic event. This is a pain everyone endures, but for a man with greater ability, there is greater conviction."

"You know, the books about you don't say anything about you being all wise advice. I mean, sure, you're supposed to have a way with words, but..." She frowned. "They don't say it, but that must be what they mean. Gotta tell you, there's a really popular theory now that you don't even exist."

Shakespeare grinned at her. It was a very attractive grin. "Now, how can a man argue with popular opinion?"

She snorted, and turned to check on her brother. Her heart stuttered in her chest as her eyes fell on the column John had been leaning against just moments ago.

He was gone.

* * *

John only realized what he was listening to - a whispered conversation behind a nearby column - when he stopped feeling sorry for himself and really paid attention. A grin split his face and he kept very still. Cassius was starting his famed conspiracy and he, John Noble, was getting to eavesdrop on the beginnings of it, right here, right now.

He was going to travel with the Doctor for as long as the Time Lord would have them.

John had always loved history, but to actually get to see and hear it, alive and happening right in front of them, it was like every wish he had ever had had been granted all at once. Experiencing this, with Donna here to share it with, he had never been happier in his life.

If he had only been able to save Rose, stop her from falling. He was somehow convinced, though the memories of the scene were very cloudy, that most of this was his fault. The Doctor had even told him, late one night during their odd conversations, that John hadn't even been conscious when she fell, but he couldn't escape the idea that he was, somehow, responsible.

Donna would kill him if she knew he'd been talking to the Doctor about Rose. She thought that the Doctor didn't want to talk, and it was true, really. The Doctor swore, when John mentioned it first, that he never talked about this sort of thing. And then, an absolute torrent of actual, accurate, true, and important words poured out of the Time Lord's mouth.

John listened rapturously to all of them and kept them deep in his heart, closed them off in his head, sealed in silence, never to be spoken. The Doctor talked to him, God alone knew why, and John cherished every word of it.

He was thinking about conspiracies and silence and wondering what Shakespeare would say about this conversation (sounded more like whinging around the office water cooler than clever manipulations) when it happened.

The world exploded into sparks, went white, went black.

* * *

The Doctor looked for her, but she was no where to be found. He had seen her, knew with absolute certainty that he had seen her. She'd been standing there in her golden, glowing nimbus, looking exactly like she had that day she'd come flowing and sparkling from the TARDIS, setting the whole Universe on its ear.

Wait...

She shouldn't have been wearing a pink hoodie, actually. She should have been wearing a bright leather jacket...

He remembered she'd been wearing one on Bad Wolf Bay - a leather jacket and a jumper, and he hadn't missed the significance. He couldn't help but wonder if she'd been wearing one ever since.

And now was not the time to be dwelling on her wardrobe, except as a side note that he'd caught a glimpse of the Bad Wolf as she moved through time.

It didn't make sense, though. She'd put the writing on the walls, scattered it through the ages, to lead her back to him at the Gamestation. Why was she still doing it?

He could only draw one conclusion: this time, she was leading him back to her.

There was a hesitant, wary electricity in the temple, the silent sound of something waiting to happen. "I'll never stop looking," he said, softly.

The very air around him seemed to clench, and he felt it, for just a moment, exactly like one of her warm and tender hugs. He couldn't help but smile, and definitely couldn't help but feel about a million times better about this.

It was time to collect his companions - even the perpetual nudist - and get back on the trail of repairing the time line. Then he could follow the path the Bad Wolf laid down for him.

"A moment, please," said a strange man's voice, interrupting his contemplation.

Reality snapped back into place around him. The time lines arched and twisted and, as he glanced at them, he noticed a snarl that hadn't been there before. He glowered at it, then turned toward the voice. "Yes? Something I can do for you?"

A small, wizened old man in a white toga trimmed with purple appeared. Quite the important personage indeed, the Doctor realized, though he had no idea who the old man was. "Be cautious, young man. Things are happening in Rome that are not as they seem."

The Doctor smiled. "Yes, but that's the story of your lives, isn't it? At this time, anyway."

The old man shook his head at the Doctor and the Doctor frowned. "This is different, and you deserve fair warning. Something strange is happening here, something unnatural."

The Doctor glanced at the snarled time line again, then nodded at the old man. "Are you a seer?" he asked, slightly amused. Except the lot in Pompeii, he'd rarely met seers who saw true futures. Time was in flux, and even the rare ability to catch a glimpse of one potential time line didn't guarantee that the one seen was the one that would actually play out.

"I am," the old man assured him. "I would have warned Caesar of what awaits him, but I have been compelled to silence. I thought I would at least take the opportunity to warn you, since you obviously do not belong here."

The Doctor nodded. "Compelled to silence?" he asked. "How?"

The old man opened his mouth to say something, but the Doctor never did get to hear it. There was a scream, sudden and deafening, from the plaza outside.

The Doctor felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It was Donna.


	6. Chapter 6

**As I am a professional writer and have work to do to get paid, I have decided to deal with these thudding plot bunnies in the traditional manner - I will inflict them on others. Please see my Profile for the Challenges of the Month. This month's October Challenges have been added to keep you amused, bemused, or just plain disconcerted. If you'd rather do September's, please feel free! The new challenges will run through the end of October. Please let me know when you respond to a Challenge so I can read and review.**

As a request for July II,** mysterypoet66** asked me for this one, which was meant to be a sequel to "The Shakespeare Code". It got out of hand with me because Donna and Jack were the specified companions. Since I couldn't have them in the same place without going AU, I went completely AU. Welcome to yet another Universe of mine, wherein the events of Journey's End went one of the ways I think would have been better.

What I'm supposed to have is Donna & Jack, the explanation behind the Queen's Wrath, several specific quotes from Shakespeare, and a cream pie sans crack. What I have is Shakespeare... oh, it's complicated, you'll have to read it.

_This one is multi-chaptered. Updates may take a few days because all research is being done carefully and with loving dedication to historical accuracy. Wish me luck, I'll need it. And yes, every chapter will have a Shakespearean title._

* * *

**A Bardic Tale**

_Chapter 6: As You Like It_

Shakespeare was holding Donna's shoulders in an iron grip as the Doctor ran down the temple stairs, two at a time at least, panic on his already too pale face. "What's happened?" His eyes scanned the plaza, darting everywhere. "John!" he shouted.

"Doctor, someone took him, I just know it!" Donna wrenched herself free of Shakespeare's grasp and they had to run her down as she darted about frantically, looking for her brother.

The Doctor snatched her into his arms and held her close, his eyes blazing like all the fires of hell. "Donna, listen to me, you have to calm down."

"They took my brother, Spaceman, I don't have to do shit!"

"Yes, you do," the Doctor said, pushing her back, looking insistently into her face. "I can't get him back if you don't. I need you to be calm Donna, be strong. Take a deep breath and tell me what happened."

Donna looked up at the Doctor, tears and anguish in her vivid green eyes. "Please, Doctor, please, I can't be without him."

"I know, Donna, I know, and I'm sorry, but I will tear this place apart if I have to to get him back. I promise. Now, what did you see? Did you see who took him, did he wander off, what?"

"He didn't wander off, he wouldn't. He wouldn't risk leaving us, he's not like that."

Shakespeare, privately, agreed with her. John was devoted to his sister, and completely taken with the Doctor's life. He couldn't even begin to imagine how the Doctor had made a friend who looked just like him, but it was easily seen from the fear in the time traveler's eyes that John's safety was imperative to him.

"He was over by that column, Doctor," Shakespeare said. "Having a private moment of introspection, certainly not likely to have departed it willingly. Your young friend has a quick and clever mind and is unlikely to have been lured."

"That's what worries me. Donna, stay here with Shakespeare." The Doctor handed the distraught woman over and Shakespeare realized she was shaking. Familiarity with his own twins - and how lost his daughter had been over her brother's death - led him to pull her into a strong embrace and hold her while she sobbed against his shoulder.

He watched the Doctor over Donna's shoulder. The man moved with grace and purpose, scanning the surroundings with his eyes and the device he pulled from his pocket, which cast a bright blue beam. He reached the spot where John had last been, his face confused and concerned. Then, all at once, the traveler bent and picked up something from the ground, something that flashed in the vivid blue light. His expressive face contorted with rage as he stalked back toward them, the single item caught in a closed and trembling fist.

"Someone's taken him," the Doctor pronounced. "We need to see if we can follow."

"What is it?" Donna demanded, pulling back from Shakespeare to glower at the Doctor. "What did you find?"

The Doctor's hand cradled a small pendant, an infinity symbol that was wrapped up with more strands that twisted around it. "I gave it to him," the Doctor said, softly, almost reverently. "I... I didn't think, I just... but it was his, and..." The Doctor closed his fist over the necklace briefly, then slipped it into a pocket. "Nothing is going to happen to him, Donna. I'll find him and I'll get him back. C'mon."

He made to charge off, but was stopped by the sudden reappearance of a breathless, frustrated and, strangely, fully-clothed Captain Jack.

* * *

Jack walked with Portia through the side streets and alleys, his primary focus on getting something to cover the bits of him that he didn't want exposed to weapons fire and fist fights. Portia tugged his hand from time to time, selecting the turns in their route to lead him somewhere, possibly back to her house.

"I need to get some clothes, love," he reminded her gently. "And we need to catch up to my friends."

"I know," she agreed. "But you can borrow something of my father's. He's a jeweler, his clothes are high quality."

"We don't want to go to your house yet, sweetheart, just trust me. How close are we to the main Temple?"

"Not far, Jack, it can be reached down any of these streets."

"Good, then. My friend's ship should be right about..."

He led her down another street, grinning to find the TARDIS waiting for them. He unlocked the door quickly and led Portia inside. If she was young enough to be convinced that a naked by-stander just happened to be a god, she should be young enough that the interior of the TARDIS wouldn't worry her too much, either.

Jack grabbed his trousers off the guardrail and jumped into them as soon as the doors closed behind them. He didn't bother with his boxers, there wasn't time. He tugged his t-shirt over his head, pulled his suspenders up, and snagged his great coat from the rack. His boxers were in the pocket - he knew the Doctor had to be responsible for that, then - and he flung them over his shoulder.

"C'mon," he said, and snagged Portia's hand.

She looked up at him in wide-eyed wonder. "It is such a glorious place. Is this yours?"

"No, it belongs to my friend, and we need to go find him as quickly as we can."

"Only a good god could dwell in such a temple. Oh, Jack, you're the best god I've ever met."

Jack shook his head, considered asking her if she met gods often, and led her back out through the doors. He was just locking up and was about to ask Portia for the closest street to the Temple when he was distracted by a quiet noise from somewhere up the street. He didn't know why, but the sound was just... wrong.

He motioned for quiet and Portia nodded gravely. He stepped away from the TARDIS and looked around carefully.

Out on the cross-street, two men were dragging a third between them. There wasn't anything odd about that, not during a celebration as big as Lupercalia, and Jack was about to breathe a sigh of relief and let it go.

They turned in the light and Jack spied a glimpse of ginger hair. He didn't bother with stealth then, just tore up the street after them. "Hey, where the hell do you think you're going?" he demanded, once the men were in easy grabbing distance.

The two shot a quick glance over their shoulders. Then, one of them hoisted John over his broad shoulder, and the other turned and pulled back a fist to slam it right into Jack's face.

Jack ducked and swept out a leg to cause his attacker to stumble. The man jumped the sweep, and Jack lashed out with a fist in a lightning quick blow to his opponent's sternum. Skills rusty from ages of disuse started to come back as they circled each other and traded a rapid succession of blows and blocks.

Jack felt his face twist into a grim smile. Venusian karate might be defensive, but the moves were so fast and so powerful that an offensive stance was easy to obtain. He remembered, lifetimes ago, the hard days of training he'd endured to pick up this lost art from the last living practitioner. Right at first, it had felt like nothing so much as the Doctor flinging him around the gym.

Jack was willing to bet his opponent was enduring a similar humiliation. He drew back a hand to deliver a single ending blow to his downed opponent, but the man rolled over faster than Jack would have expected from a street brawler in Ancient Rome.

The gun the man carried was even more unexpected in Ancient Rome.

There was a vivid green light, then nothing.

* * *

Jack gasped himself back to life to find Portia sobbing against his chest. He lowered a hand - he'd apparently fallen with very little grace this time - and stroked her hair kindly. "It's all right," he said, softly.

"Oh, Jack, you're still here!" she exclaimed in wonder.

"Did you see where they took him?" Jack asked, vaulting to his feet.

"No, they went down that alley, there, but there isn't anything there."

Jack ran down the alley, the little girl following as quickly as she could. Nothing. Not a trace. He checked the wrist computer, hoping to find some signal or something but even if they used a teleport, it didn't register. He bit off the swear words given present company, and reached down to pick the little girl up.

"We have to move, sweetheart," he said. "Put your arms around my neck and hold on tight."

She did as he asked her and Jack pivoted on his heel, keeping a tight hold on his small burden. He ran for the Temple as if pursued by wolves.

* * *

The Doctor stopped, oh, two feet short of colliding right into Jack. "Where have you been?" the Doctor demanded, hoarsely.

"Dead, and you?" Jack retorted, and if he wasn't mistaken, Jack was furious about something.

"Never mind that right now, someone's taken John." He moved to dart past Jack, not sure he even wanted to know how Jack had gone about getting himself killed this time.

"I know," Jack agreed. "I tried to stop them."

This pulled the Doctor up short, completely, and he turned and stared at Jack, noticing for the first time that there was a small girl huddled in Jack's arms, her dark hair tangled and her tunic quite rumpled and dirty. No time, though, not right now. "You saw them? Who were they, what did they look like?"

The little girl raised her head. "Please, sir," she said in a soft, piping voice, "they were Centurions. Jack fought one of them, but the man killed him, and they both ran away with the other man."

"Can you show us where, sweetheart?" Donna asked, her voice gentle but urgent.

"It's this way," Jack said, and turned, still not setting the child down.

"Who is this?" the Doctor asked.

"This is Portia. I think she's connected to this, somehow. They weren't really Centurions, Doctor. A Centurion couldn't have got the drop on me."

"I should hope not," the Doctor agreed, shaking his head in frustration. "I was sure I'd taught you better than that."

Jack smiled a little. "I had some skills before you kicked my butt every day for six months," he complained.

"What's this?" interrupted Shakespeare, walking alongside them as Jack led the way. "Please tell me you were not bested in a fight by... the Doctor."

"I think he said you're a little girl, Doc," teased Jack, looking the Doctor over with a snicker. Then, he shook his head and leaned toward Shakespeare. "Tell you what, Bill. You take him on, hand to hand, and then pick on me."

"Can we please focus, people?!" Donna demanded. "They took my brother, and I want him back! Now!"

"We're working on it, Donna," the Doctor assured her. Truth was, he'd been grateful for Jack's teasing to steer him away from the rage building just behind his eyelids. He'd felt like this before, and he didn't like it, but he couldn't escape the conviction - the nagging, territorial fury - that something that was his had been taken from him.

Portia reached for Donna and Jack relinquished her into the ginger-haired woman's arms. The Doctor hoped the child would give Donna something to focus on besides their matching desire to rip apart whomever had taken her brother away. "I'm sorry," the little girl breathed. "Someone took my mother and my sisters, too."

Donna cuddled the girl close and whispered soothingly into the child's hair. The Doctor pulled out his screwdriver and began scanning the streets, looking for traces of where they might have taken John.

* * *

John Noble had no idea where he was when he woke up, but that made sense, because he had absolutely no recollection of having fallen asleep. He realized, with the throbbing in his head and the heaviness in his limbs that "fallen asleep" wasn't an accurate description of what had happened to him, actually.

He tilted his head carefully, instinct telling him that an escape would be easier if he didn't draw attention to himself.

There was a chain on his wrist, but otherwise, he seemed unrestricted, and the chain gave him easily ten feet to move around. The metal gave it away, though. It was titanium, a metal almost completely unheard of in the ancient world. Although his settings seemed to be completely in keeping with the Rome of 44 BC, there was no way this chain came from then, any more than there was an easy way of getting it off.

There were time travelers involved, somehow.

He heard coarse male voices from the other side of the barred door to his current prison. John made a quick decision and, closing his eyes, feigned sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**As I am a professional writer and have work to do to get paid, I have decided to deal with these thudding plot bunnies in the traditional manner - I will inflict them on others. Please see my Profile for the Challenges of the Month. This month's November Challenges have been added because I like bewitching your minds and ensnaring your senses. If you'd rather do October's, please feel free! The new challenges will run through the end of November. Please let me know when you respond to a Challenge so I can read and review.  
**

**mysterypoet66**'s request for July II.

_This one is multi-chaptered. Updates may take a few days because all research is being done carefully and with loving dedication to historical accuracy. Wish me luck, I'll need it. And yes, every chapter will have a Shakespearean title._

* * *

**A Bardic Tale**

_Chapter 7: The Tempest_

John forced himself not to hold his breath as the heavy door of the room he was being held in was shoved open carelessly. Had he not been bound, he would definitely have been able to get loose at this point, so it was obvious to him that the people who entered were his jailers. He kept his eyes closed, counting the foot steps. There were three sets.

A deep fear was building inside him, an intense emotion that he didn't like. He had been scared before, when he was young, and Donna had always been there to soothe his fears. As he got older, there'd been very little for him to fear in his life, but he remembered clearly being terrified for Donna every single minute she'd been away from him with the Doctor. He knew now that the Doctor would protect her, would guard her with his own life if he had to do, and there was always every chance Jack was there, too, and Jack didn't even have to worry about guarding her with his life.

Still, he couldn't escape the nagging sensation. It was building slowly and bringing something else with it, something he could not recall having felt before.

One set of boots thumped over to the makeshift cot where he was pretending to be sleeping. All at once, unexpectedly, there was a rough, but not brutal, kick to his side. "Get up, time traveler," a gruff voice snapped, and John easily understood the badly educated Latin the voice spoke. He couldn't tell if that meant the TARDIS wasn't translating for him, or if it meant that She wouldn't because he understood it.

The moments he took to decide that it was probably the latter gave his captors time to get annoyed with his delay. A hand grabbed his hair, jerked roughly. "I said up, pretty boy!" And the hand tugged until John tumbled unceremoniously to the floor.

Two of his captors laughed coarsely, the other standing stock-still and blank eyed in the doorway. John had just enough time to notice that before that other, unnamed emotion suddenly built to a titanic proportion. Somewhere deep inside him, something broke loose.

He didn't even bother to get to his feet, just used his position for leverage and pushed off, slamming hard into the legs of the man who'd kicked him, bowling him over. Surprise gave him the further advantage, as the man tumbled beneath his sudden assault. John ignored the other man, just jumped on the first one and pounded his fist into the man's face, his other hand closing about the man's throat as he pushed himself upright against the struggling body.

The other man closed a hand on John's shoulder. John's hands snapped up, closed over the hand holding him and, using the force of the man's own movement, he ducked forward sharply. The body flew over his head and into the wall.

The delay had given the other man time to roll away, but not to get to his feet. John, absolutely heedless of the keys hanging in the limp hand of the man in the doorway, vaulted to his feet, using one of those moves he'd seen the Doctor execute effortlessly, and stood there, gasping for air. Then, because he really didn't see anything but red, he ran at the one who was trying to get to his feet and kicked the man, fiercely and repeatedly.

He wanted to kill them both, and that was all there was to it.

The second one rose again and barreled into him, his weight carrying them both to the ground on top of his downed colleague. They traded rapid blows back and forth and then he managed to throw John off. John swore harshly, couldn't even guess what language he was using, it didn't matter, the bastard was still moving. Spitting blood, he raised his right hand to brush it away, and the chain rattled.

John smiled.

When the man launched himself at John for another go, John ducked to the left and brought his arm up, letting his shorter attacker run right by him. The chain was now around the man's chest. John gave it a solid tug, brought it up around his assailant's windpipe, and reached for the rest of the length. The attacker struggled, but John used his struggles to tighten the chain and backed himself up against the wall so that no one could get behind him. Still, his opponent fought like a wild animal, now possibly just to get away.

John jerked on the chain just to let the bastard know his grip was nearly unbreakable. The man finally went still. "Now what?" he snarled with a sound like laughter.

John felt a grim, dark satisfaction flow through him. This man's life was in his hands. Coldly, he gave a single, simple order, "On your knees."

* * *

Donna was panicking. "He's a school teacher!" she exclaimed frantically, tugging at the Doctor's coat and hurrying in his wake. "He's never been in a fight in his entire life. He's never even touched a gun, Doctor, there's no way he can defend himself." The Doctor ignored her completely. If anything, he merely walked faster.

"Donna," Jack interrupted and snatched her arm. He dragged her back to him, being careful not to upset Portia, whom Donna still carried even as she ran. Portia didn't seem particularly alarmed at this, though Jack had yet to really investigate her, anyway. "Your brother is going to be fine. John's made of tough, you know that, right? He's got to have learnt something from you. We'll find him, we'll keep him safe."

"He's always been so clever, but that's all. He can talk himself out of any kind of trouble, but this isn't that sort of thing, not if they were willing to kill you to carry him off."

"I'm sure the Doctor will find him, Donna, it's fine." They reached the place Portia pointed out to Jack, and Jack passed the information along. The Doctor nodded but didn't bother speaking.

"I don't know, I mean, what if..."

"Just let him work," Jack insisted.

She was silent for some minutes, as the Doctor ran the sonic screwdriver over every single inch of the alley where Portia had last seen the men who had taken John. Then, she spoke up again. "And why him, anyway?" she demanded. "Jack's immortal and Bill's famous, if they needed someone special, why not take one of them? I mean, it's not like I could have fought them off if they decided to go for Bill, honestly and..."

"I have spent more than my fair share of evenings in low pubs, Donna," Bill reminded her. "Yet, you make good argument."

"He was away from the group," Jack said. "That's what you said, right? He didn't have to be special, just separated from the rest of you."

"Well, so were you and so was the Spaceman. And he was zoned out just as much as John, and you were running around in the altogether for pity's sake. Why did they take my brother? He's not special, he's just... He's John."

"He is special," the Doctor said, finally looking up, shaking his head grimly at Jack. "Someone might have known that, if they knew enough to take the Omniscate off of him. It's not possible for the chain to break and someone would need a Vortex manipulator or similar to open the clasp, since it exists in three time zones simultaneously."

Donna handed Portia off to Jack and rounded on the Doctor. "You gave him something that makes him stand out? So people would think he's important or something? How could you, what were you thinking!!?"

"No," the Doctor said, and cut her off. "I gave it to him because he's important, Donna." The Doctor looked down at his right hand, the hand that Jack knew had been severed, rotated his wrist, briefly, then shook his head. "Your brother is... I wanted him to know I... I never get to... so I thought... I didn't think..."

"Oh," she said. Nothing else, and she seemed to be utterly deflated. She blinked in surprise when the Doctor said nothing more, just stood there with his head down. "Why John, Doctor? Because he looks like you? You said you didn't always look like that. I... what is it?"

"I don't understand it myself, all right, Donna?" the Doctor ground out, ignoring the fact that everyone else was even there. "You are my best friend, Donna, you really are. But your brother... I... he's..." The Doctor sighed, took a deep breath, turned to look at Jack, who shrugged, not knowing what else to do. "He's going to be fine, Donna, I promise you."

Donna nodded slowly, approaching the Doctor as if she was afraid he would bolt and run. "I believe you," she said quietly.

The Doctor nodded, then beamed at her and gave a giddy bounce. "Good. Now, I can't find a single energy signature of any kind and without his Omniscate, he doesn't stand out from any other human on this planet. Well, he probably smells better than the rest of them right now, but my nose isn't what it used to be." He winked at Jack, who shook his head and tried to fight off a grin. "What we need is someone who knows more about this and, luckily, we have just that person. Portia!"

Jack lowered the child to the ground and, although she insisted on keeping Jack's hand in hers, she walked up to him. "Yes, sir?" she said, looking up at him with wide, dark eyes.

He smiled softly, and Jack recognized that smile as a variant of one he'd seen a million times before. So he wasn't the only one who thought she bore a resemblance to Rose. The Doctor might not even be aware of it, but he looked strangely gentle as he dropped to his knees so he could look the child in the eyes. "Tell me what happened to your family," he said, firmly but kindly.

Through careful questions and many interruptions, the story eventually emerged.

* * *

Portia was the youngest of four children. Her father was a jeweler, her mother was the daughter of a ranking priest. Her brother died in a battle somewhere that she didn't even understand the name of, never mind the purpose. Her older sister was promised to one of the Imperator's generals. She and her twin sister were far too young for consideration but her father was considering teaching Portia his trade, as he was unlikely to have any more sons. Antonia was determined to take vows but whether their father would let her remained to be seen.

Portia used to tell her father every time she saw the strange gods who would sometimes appear in blue light, but after he forbade her to mention it ever again, she only told Antonia and sometimes her grandfather. It was her grandfather who told her that one of these men would be her god, someday when she needed one. Jack hadn't appeared in blue light, but he just looked like they did, all tall and fair. More to the point, she had seen stars in Jack's eyes and knew he was exactly the sort of god she wanted. He'd more than proved himself, not dying when the Centurion shot him, and showing her the blue box temple.

She was looking for Jack because, three days ago, her father had come home from the shop very strange. He had the oddest, most vacant look in his eyes and, when he asked her mother to go to the shop with him, he had come back alone, but asked her older sister to go to the shop with him. When he came back alone again, Portia begged Antonia not to go, but her sister didn't believe that anything was wrong. While he was gone, Portia ran away.

She had found places to sleep the past two nights by following street children, but she was tired and scared and hungry. When she found Jack, though, she knew everything was going to get better very soon. And already it was, too, because Jack had brought her to the blue box temple and to the promised physician (she did wonder how her grandfather hadn't known he would be a god, too) and she knew now that her faith would be vindicated soon.

Although she was surprised when everyone laughed at Jack when she asked him what was supposed to be sacrificed to him.

* * *

"Time Agents," Jack said, grimly. "It's almost got to be."

"Or something with a Vortex Manipulator, anyway," the Doctor clarified. He patted Portia on the head and handed her a banana from his pocket. "You've got a crap time sense, Jack, but can you see the snarl at all?"

Jack sighed. Here they were again, back to the Doctor making fun of the talent that had made him the pride of the Time Agency. "Doctor, it can't be more than five specific people... well, four, actually... and do you mean that spot... there... where everything looks..." Jack tilted his head to the side, marveling at the vague impressions.

The Doctor reached over, snatched Jack's hand, and all at once, the time-lines snapped into sharp relief. Jack blinked and shook his head to try to sort out what he was seeing. "Stop it," the Doctor said. "Just look. There."

"Is that..." Jack blinked. "Does that mean tomorrow?" he asked.

"That's where the cascade will start, if it's going to do, yes," the Doctor agreed.

"What the hell are you two doing, besides holding hands like a couple of complete nancies?" Donna demanded. "I don't see anything, but that my brother is gone."

The Doctor looked at Donna and shook his head. "Donna, I think - no, I'm absolutely certain - that whoever took our John and whoever took Portia's family are the same people. Now, please give me a minute to stand over here holding Jack's hand like a complete nancy so I can finish doing my wibbly-wobbly Time Lordy stuff that won't make any sense to you, all right?"

She made to slap him, but he ducked behind Jack. "Stop being an arse and explain, Spaceman," she snapped. Jack thought, if the Doctor didn't, that she was probably going to go through him to get to the Time Lord.

"Give me a minute!" the Doctor snapped back. "Jack, what do you mean it can only be four people? At my last count, there were fifty three active Time Agents, you, and five less reliable rogues, in the current absolute time stream."

"John said there were only six of us left last time I talked to him," Jack said with a shrug. "And it isn't John. The Old Girl isn't sending mauve alerts up far and wide and I'm not getting that 'something wicked this way comes' vibe that always comes with him."

"I'll have that off you," Shakespeare observed suddenly.

"Bill, if you'll wait 'til this is over, you can have anything off me you want," Jack said. "You too, Donna," he added, just to make sure she didn't feel left out.

"John must have come from further up the time stream," the Doctor said with a shrug, dropping Jack's hand and pacing rapidly back and forth. "Do you know anything that the Time Agency would be interested in disrupting around here? Seems a bit early in Earth's history, and you'd think they'd know by now that the Thessalan Effect will deal with most small scale disruption this far out of their native streams."

"Thessalan?" Jack asked. "Oh, you mean the Corimsky Radius."

"Yeah, sorry," the Doctor agreed and scratched the back of his neck.

"Will you two stop comparing your bits and talk sense?!" Donna interrupted, rudely.

"Fine," said the Doctor. "It could be anyone at all, but they have to have a Vortex Manipulator and they can't be one of Jack's old lot, because that lot know better than to do anything major scale and know minor scale wouldn't matter. Did that help at all?"

"So, what, someone's trying to prevent the Fall of Rome, or something?"

"If they are," Jack said, "they're in the wrong place in space-time."

"It's got to be stopped, whatever it is," the Doctor observed, grimly. "I think it's time we gave Portia's father's shop the once over."

"What if that doesn't help?" Donna demanded frantically. She was obviously at the end of her rope. "What if he's not there, what if he's hurt, or dead?"

The Doctor turned and Jack saw, suddenly and very clearly, an actual resemblance between this form and the last one. The Oncoming Storm blazed brightly in his eyes, the light of stars with fire enough to consume worlds. Whatever else he saw there, there was absolutely nothing even remotely human. When the Time Lord spoke, his voice was dark, grim, frozen solid, and more absolute than time or space. "Then, Donna Noble, there is nothing in all the starry Universe that will save them from me."


	8. Chapter 8

**As I am a professional writer and have work to do to get paid, I have decided to deal with these thudding plot bunnies in the traditional manner - I will inflict them on others. Please see my Profile for the Challenges of the Month. This month's December Challenges have been added because my monthly challenges are the gift that keeps on giving. OK, they're not, but if you write a fic with them, they are! If you'd rather do November's, please feel free! I'm still holding out hope. The new challenges will run through the end of December. Please let me know when you respond to a Challenge so I can read and review. I will also be linking them on my LJ in the future!**

**mysterypoet66**'s request for July II.

_This one is multi-chaptered. Updates may take a few days because all research is being done carefully and with loving dedication to historical accuracy. Wish me luck, I'll need it. And yes, every chapter will have a Shakespearean title._

* * *

**A Bardic Tale**

_Chapter 8: The Passionate Pilgrim_

John looked down at the man he had trapped. One swift tug or a slow, gradual tightening, and this man's life was over. In a low, dangerous voice, he spoke, the only thing that concerned him now, possibly ever. "Where's my sister?"

"Your sister?" his prisoner asked in an incredulous tone. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

John wasn't an expert at torture, but he was reasonably certain they always lied the first time you asked a question, at least until you proved you meant it. He needed to pull the chain, slowly, carefully, a little tiny bit tighter, just to let the man know that he meant business, that he was very serious, that he was willing to kill to see to it that Donna was kept safe. Just a little bit.

They'd captured him and probably captured her, too. They were doing something they weren't supposed to be doing, something that would be dangerous for the Doctor, something that endangered life as he knew it, because his future depended on this past. His grandfather, his sister, everyone he knew, everything. There was no reason to...

His fingers wouldn't do it.

He hated them. They had probably taken Donna, maybe hurt her, maybe killed her.

He wasn't like them, though. Never had been.

He gave an angry shout, a villainous curse, and dropped the chain, knocking the man over flat on his face as he let go. "You're just not worth it," he decided, delivering a rapid kick to knock the man unconscious.

He double checked the man's pulse and found it quickly, then walked over to the one he had attacked so fiercely. The man groaned when John nudged him, and John winced at the sight of the man's broken nose, the blood on his face. He found the pulse in the man's neck and it was surprisingly strong. All he could think was that his frantic attack must have gotten in a lucky blow somewhere to keep this one down, since he obviously hadn't done any permanent damage after all.

Useless waste of energy, he was.

He should be ashamed of himself, really, he should. That he couldn't act to protect his sister, that he could find it in him to believe that maybe the men really didn't have her or know anything about her... He should be feeling terribly guilty. Maybe everyone was right, maybe he was just a sort of tag-along and after-thought. He should be feeling really, very horrible about himself right now.

So why was he feeling more like he'd conquered some inner demon he hadn't even known he had?

He snapped his fingers in front of the face of the man in the doorway. Nothing. So he caught the key ring, flipped through the keys until he found a titanium one to match the cuff on his wrist, and unlocked it.

* * *

Jack kicked open the door to Portia's father's shop. Inside, it was dark, and there was a familiar, heady fragrance of... "Doctor, this isn't right. It smells like..."

The Doctor nodded grimly and leaned over, as casually as you please, and licked the wall. "Fifty-first century human pheromones," he confirmed after a moment.

"That's disgusting, Spaceman," Donna announced, blandly. "I just think you should know that."

Jack didn't think it was disgusting. The heavy aroma was doing something to him, though, something that bothered him a lot under the circumstances, and he didn't think he liked it, especially since the insistent voice that he usually used to tell him "Don't jump the Doctor" was currently muttering the exact opposite.

"Yours, incidentally," the Doctor added, something strange and unnamable in his dark eyes. "Care to explain?"

"That's impossible," Jack defended, even though it obviously wasn't. The Doctor gestured around them to make that point.

"No, but seriously, Doc," Jack said. "Even if I was here during those two missing years or something, there's no way it would be this concentration of this set of pheromones."

The Doctor chuckled, having obviously accurately identified them. "I dunno, Jack."

"Look, Doctor, I'm honored that you would think that, but we both know even I don't get this lucky. Besides, wouldn't one of us have detected another version of me here? It didn't show up on the TARDIS monitors, on the screwdriver, on my wrist comp, anywhere. Even with a crap time sense, I can usually see a Blinovitch Limitation risk. And we both know you can."

The two men glowered at each other. Donna huffed. "What do you think, Bill? If I clobber them, do you think either one of them will at least try to make sense?" She paused when there was no answer. "Bill?" she asked.

"This is bad," said the Doctor, waving a hand in front of Shakespeare's unresponsive face. The Bard stood there, slack jawed, not even blinking.

"His head's in the clouds, too, I guess," Donna observed fretfully.

"Donna Noble, you are a genius!!" the Doctor proclaimed. "Oh, that's it!!"

"What's what?" Donna demanded. She set Portia down and rounded on the Time Lord.

"No no no," the Doctor snapped. "Keep her with you. She's succumbed, too. Once you leave the building, she should be all right. Take her and Bill and get back to the TARDIS."

"Not until you tell me what's going on!" she answered.

"Donna, we don't have time for this! Gah, there's never a teleport around when you need one!"

"What's a teleport got to do with it?" Donna demanded.

"Never mind," the Doctor answered. He handed Jack the sonic screwdriver. "Complete chemical analysis. Setting 2144."

Jack nodded and scanned the blue beam over the wall.

"Tell me, Doctor!!" Donna ordered.

"You were right. Someone's clouding people's minds, using Jack's pheromones as the chemical basis and attaching something else. You're mostly immune because you've been exposed to them before, don't look at me like that, Jack, you can't help it. Donna, if they hit you in the face with it, I'm not sure the immunity will hold. I'm not losing you to some mind control, Donna, not even for a minute, and I need you to look after Bill and Portia. So you have to get out of here. I promise you I will find our John and bring him back to you. Now, get out of here. Go on." The Doctor rounded on the somnambulant Bard. "Bill, I need you to follow Donna. Help her in any way you can."

Donna gaped at him. The Doctor jerked his hands through his hair. "Donna, go now! Run!"

Donna snatched Portia up, turned on her heels, and fled. Bill, as mindless as a zombie, followed jerkily after her.

"She never listens," the Doctor complained. "Library full of vashta nerada and she saw what they could do and I still had to trick her into leaving."

"How did you survive a library full of vashta nerada?" Jack asked incredulously, still scanning the screwdriver over the wall next to the door.

"River."

"Who's River?" Jack inquired incuriously.

"I don't even want to know," the Doctor answered. Jack thought he sounded both forbidding and annoyed. "Give me that," he snapped.

Jack passed over the screwdriver, thinking hard. Who could possibly have concentrated his pheromones and turned them into a weapon? Was it the Time Agency? Was he about to find out about the missing two years?

It didn't make sense, though. Any fifty-first century human had learned to control his pheromones. No one that far in the future would have even considered making a concentrated chemical cocktail of them, simply because they wouldn't have seemed the slightest bit unique or special. Any one else who tried to harness them would have had to chain him down and kept him half dead to capture and extract pheromones enough to concentrate in this quantity.

The small hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. "Doctor," he said, as the realization rolled over him.

"Yes, there's a Triskedian thought-damper chemically bonded to the pheromones to make it airborne and prevalent. Not to mention your damn biochemicals make it hard to think anyway..."

Jack tugged at his sleeve urgently.

"What?" the Doctor demanded.

"I know who's got to be responsible for this," he said. "I have no idea how it's even remotely possible, but I know who's done it. I can't begin to..."

"Who?" the Doctor interrupted.

Jack shook his head, and met the Doctor's dark eyes, knowing his own were huge and stunned. "Torchwood."

* * *

John stepped from the area that had held his former cell, a storage area of some kind, and into an utter anomaly. There was an old style computer sitting on a rough hewn table, humming away to itself as it spat out reams of ticker tape. It was too advanced for, say, the 1960s, but too wrong for any time later. There was a small device, apparently powering the computer, which a quick mental calculation revealed as a hydrogen fuel cell, complete with some sort of converter. A clay lamp hung over the lot, shedding sparse light on the vacuum tube based monitor, which glowed a weak and watery greenish blue. An oil lamp, not operating at the moment, sat next to the monitor.

Time travel, indeed, but it was off, too, a strange amalgamation of anachronisms from different time frames, some things too advanced to be contemporary even to his era, some too primitive to explain any of that. He peered around and his eyes lit on a board full of mathematical calculations. He studied the calculations, his mind methodically cataloguing the errors, correcting them, compensating for them.

He adjusted the results in his head, looked again through the figures, trying to analyze, now, the proper purpose of these numbers. He let them wander through his vast brain, trying to name the undefined variables, trying to put what he was seeing into correct context.

Every instinct told him that he was looking at a formula that led to armageddon. The end of the world, possibly many worlds, was implicit in the cold mathematics before him, and he felt his heart clench at the very idea.

It was supposed to change reality. Whoever had written these figures meant to alter time. But he didn't have the skills or the math or the intelligence or the knowledge to rewrite history without destroying everything. What was worse, the mathematician thought he or she had come to an acceptable conclusion, believed that these figures led to a proper, positive result.

He had to wonder if maybe someone wanted to believe the math. In his opinion, the errors were far too obvious to be missed. He knew, though, that he was by far more clever than most people, so maybe the errors weren't as obvious as he thought. Still, it seemed absurd.

He turned away in fear and disgust and walked across the room, intent now only to find an exit, get to the Doctor. The Doctor could fix this; he could fix anything.

A flurry of footsteps was all the warning he had. He made to run, but there was something that was very obviously a gun pointed at his head.

The woman who held the gun was dressed like an extra from a fifties movie. It took him only seconds to decide that this was because she was actually from the 1950s, that the woman training an incredibly advanced weapon on him was a time traveler like himself.

Forcing a fetching grin into place, he offered the woman his hand. "Hello," he said, "I'm John."

* * *

"Torchwood," the Doctor spat. "You let them have access to your biochemistry, Jack, what the hell were you thinking?"

"You've got several words wrong in that sentence, Doc," Jack answered, and the Doctor could tell the cheer in his voice was entirely faked. "Let isn't right, thinking wasn't the issue, access isn't the word I'd've used, but hell is pretty much perfect."

The Doctor stared at him, feeling something burning in his chest. He'd known, how could he not, that he was letting Jack in for hardship and difficulties, but he hadn't thought it was... like this. "What did they do to you?" he asked.

Jack shrugged. "Doesn't matter," he answered.

"Jack!" the Doctor snapped. He didn't want to deal with this, but then he didn't want to not deal with it and he really didn't know why he was angry or even who he was angry at. "Tell me."

"It really doesn't matter right now. What matters is that they're involved in this somehow, and they might just have John. 'If it's alien, it's ours,' remember, and he might not be alien, but then again, maybe he is. And, either way, he's good enough bait for you, because I've heard you refer to him with a possessive twice in the past half-hour. What's that about, anyway?"

"He just is. I don't ask you to explain your feelings for Ianto or Gwen, why can't I have unexplained emotions about John? Now, what are we likely to encounter?"

"I can't think it would be any of the lot that have been my team at any point, so either before the twenty-first century or somewhere in the future, if something happens to me."

"It'd take armageddon for something to happen to you," the Doctor answered. For some reason, Jack looked very nervous about that point. The Time Lord shook his head. He and Jack really needed to have this out someday soon. In a way, they were going to be stuck with each other, associated simply by their natures, for a very very long time. It was funny, but by saving Jack, Rose had technically given the Doctor one thing he never expected to have in his life: someone he couldn't lose to time. Even if they avoided one another successfully for centuries, there was very little chance of their keeping apart forever, which was how long they technically had between them.

With a grim determination, the Doctor resolved to at least take some time to sit down and finally, finally talk this out between them.

"There are more things in heaven and earth than are ever dreamt of in your philosophy," Jack explained, finally, grimly.

The Doctor nodded. "Yours too, Jack, yours too. Let's get this sorted, find John, and get out of here."

"What about the pheromones?" Jack asked.

The Doctor shrugged. "They're yours, they've no power over you, particularly. And I'm immune."

Jack laughed ruefully. "That explains so much."


	9. Chapter 9

I know it took me long enough, but it's finally being updated and I have another chapter ready after this one. From Mysterypoet's July II, with much gratitude for the patience.

* * *

**A Bardic Tale**

_Chapter 9: Julius Caesar_

"Something got out of here," Jack observed, looking down at the two men sprawled unconscious on the floor of the small, dirty little room.

"Yeah, and?" the Doctor prodded.

Jack forced himself not to smile, but this conversation was very familiar, hearkening back to the night they'd first met. "Something strong and angry, something these two didn't expect."

"And?" the Doctor repeated.

"And whatever it was, it had mercy, because they're still breathing. Must've been one helluva fight. And then he got the key?" Jack reached over and held up a titanium manacle with the small ring of keys still in the lock. "Doctor, do you know what did this?"

"At a guess?" the Doctor said, scanning the screwdriver over the brutalized face of one of the unconscious men. "John."

Jack blinked in astonishment. "John?!" he yelped. "But Doctor, he's harmless!"

"Obviously not," the Doctor replied. "No more than you are, Jack. No more than I am, maybe."

Jack stared incredulously at the slowly dripping, broken nose of one of the two men, the at the black and blue face of the other. "Part Donna Noble and part Oncoming Storm," Jack realized. "Remind me to stop teasing him."

The Doctor shrugged. "Might be interesting to watch, but I don't think John did this because they were holding him captive. He got scared and…"

Jack stopped the Doctor's jaunt into telepathic memory with a hand on the Time Lord's arm. "Can we do that later, Doc?"

"Maybe," the Doctor replied, shaking his head. "What is it?"

"Thing one is, that one's waking up and I'd like us to be elsewhere just in case. Thing two is, John may've escaped, and that's great, but where is he now?"

"Ah," said the Doctor, "good point."

They closed the door behind them and Jack dropped the heavy bar over it. Then they continued up the corridor, checking every room as they went.

* * *

About a block away from the building, Bill suddenly snapped out of his trance. At almost the same moment, Portia came back to herself with a sharp, startled cry. Donna held the little girl tighter and tried to soothe her while Bill paced agitatedly and talked a long string of words that made no sense to Donna, apparently meant to help him sort things out.

"Donna," Shakespeare said finally, "do you know what happened?"

"You're as bad as the space man, couldn't've just asked me first." She testily explained the situation as well as she understood it – drugs and Jack and how being around him meant she was immune.

"So they're going to solve everything and we're meant to keep out of the way?" Shakespeare asked, shaking his head, his voice thoroughly disgusted.

"Yep, just go stand around the TARDIS like a coupla plums." Donna rolled her eyes in irritation, then leaned closer, talking fervently. "But I was thinking. What if we don't do that?"

"What else can we do?" Shakespeare asked, leaning back against the wall, a look of intense frustration on his expressive face.

"Well," said Donna, using the most persuasive tone she had, the one she'd always used when coaxing John to help her get into trouble, "Portia's family's the center of this mess, so I vote we go see them."

"My family is gone," Portia said sadly.

"Just show us to your house, sweetheart," Donna requested. "We'll figure out the rest of it once we get there."

"Do you think they might have John there instead?" Shakespeare asked. Donna couldn't decide if she was just ridiculously obvious, or if Bill Shakespeare was coming to know her well enough to suss her motives.

"I can't take the chance, Bill, no matter what the Doctor says."

* * *

"Right, so you're?" John gestured with hands and eyebrows at the woman who merely studied him in return. "Not going to introduce yourself. All right. I'll just call you Lucille."

The woman's brow furrowed and her head tilted back. John understood what dolphins must feel like when their trainers were particularly fascinated by something they did. "Why Lucille?" she asked very politely and very, very condescendingly.

John frowned. "It was Lucille or Mehitabel and I thought I'd get better lines with Lucille." He turned and gestured at the board of bad numbers behind them. "Cuz, lemee tell you, Lucy, you got some s'plainin' ta do."

"It was my understanding that you are an experienced time traveler." She shook her head in a sort of dismay, then gestured at the same board like an air hostess doing instructions. "I need you to check the equations, please."

Since she was being so disturbingly well-mannered, John felt compelled to follow suit. "I beg your pardon?" He shook his head, forced himself not to rake his fingers through his already disturbed hair. "Is there some compelling reason you believe I'd like to help you?"

"Lucille" put her hands on her hips and smiled a perfect mummy-knows-best smile. "Of course you'll help. If we've missed anything, if anything was forgotten in the calculations, I understand the damage will be quite extensive. I'm sure you don't want to be responsible for the destruction of all creation."

Inside, he was seething. The woman, whatever her name was, was obviously completely insane. How dare she try to put this on him? It wasn't his fault she'd decided to do… whatever it was they were doing here. "I'm not certain I'm even aware of what your variables stand for, to be completely honest. However, I can see very well that, whatever conclusions you've arrived at, they are completely incorrect. The whole premise would appear to be specious, if you want my informed opinion. And, frankly, I'd rather die than help you."

"Yes, I thought you might say that. What you need to understand, sir, is that I don't really care what you'd rather do." Her voice never changed pitch, never grew the slightest bit less cultured, polite, or quiet. It didn't really even sound firm, just matter of fact. She was starting to make John's skin crawl.

"How exactly do you propose to stop me?" John demanded. "Obviously, you need me, so you probably won't shoot me and if you do, like I said, I'd rather die, anyway."

He reached for the eraser, but "Lucille" stepped between him and the board. There was a glass atomizer in her hand. John glanced at it dubiously. "No, I don't need to smell like flowers, thanks," he said, backing toward the door.

"You'll excuse me, I hope," was the infinitely gracious response. Her hand tightened and John Noble tried not to breathe.

He wondered, briefly, why humans had never evolved something so dead useful as a respiratory bypass system. Then, breathless, he inhaled.

* * *

Jack and the Doctor found John working his way slowly and methodically through a series of complex calculations. However, it became obvious the instant they spoke to him that he had no awareness of anything but the numbers before him. His long fingers clutched a piece of chalk, the other hand wrapped around an eraser that he seemed to be using almost constantly.

"Time Agents," Jack pronounced viciously. "This is Agency mathematics, first year stuff." He glanced over the bits John hadn't reached yet. "It's also a mess," he concluded.

A woman's voice spoke with a lullaby lilt. "You seem remarkably well informed for a…" The voice trailed off in a gasp of horror as a carefully coifed and styled woman appeared from the shadows of the room. "Harkness," she proclaimed, the sound brittle and clipped.

"Morton," Jack acknowledged in a voice like black ice. "Doctor, Antoinette Morton. Antoinette once vivisected a Syrenian just to study their screams."

"No anesthetic at least?" the Doctor asked, carefully duplicating the cold casualness of Jack's tone.

"I wouldn't have screamed properly if it had been anesthetized," the woman replied. She spoke in such an even, reasonable, logical voice that it set the Time Lord's teeth on edge. "What can I do for you gentlemen today?" she continued, a housekeeping-spread smile on perfectly tinted lips.

"Oh, we just came to pick up John," the Doctor replied. "Playtime's over and he needs to come home now."

"I'd like to know what you're doing here," Jack interrupted. "Last I heard of you, you'd… oh. Never mind."

Morton considered Jack with a canted head, her eyes bright and curious. "I'd quite like to know how you got here," she observed. The Doctor decided that he would have mistaken the woman for an android without Jack's introduction. "I left you hanging from the ceiling beam, as I recall."

"You've seen my records, Morton, you know I don't stay dead." Jack tossed a grim look at the Doctor. "A bad habit I picked up from a friend."

"I'd quite like to know how you get here," the Doctor cut in, refusing to let his thoughts turn away from the current crisis, no matter how they tried. "I'd have known if Torchwood ever managed to get hold of a time traveling device."

"Not this one," said Morton. She raised her hand daintily, as if offering it for a kiss in introduction. A slight twist revealed that she wasn't wearing the expected Lucite bracelet.

She had a Time Agent's Vortex Manipulator.

* * *

"At a guess," said Donna, "I'd say those people don't belong here." She was completely understating the case, and she knew it, but she and William Shakespeare and a small, lost child were standing on some sort of crates peering through a back window of a Roman home in 44 BC. She felt she could be excused for the flippancy at the moment.

"What are gods doing in my house?" Portia breathed in quiet wonder.

"They're not gods," Donna assured the little girl gently. "They're bad men who are doing bad things."

"But we just saw!" the girl exclaimed. Donna hastily shushed her and the huge brown eyes went wide and apologetic. Softer, she continued, "One just appeared there."

"They are using dark magic," Shakespeare told Portia quietly, and Donna realized that he was more able to make the child understand. "They are in league with evil things. They have a lean and hungry look about them." He paused thoughtfully. "Oh, that's good," he said brightly.

"Write it down later," Donna exclaimed. "For now, we need a plan."

"What sort of plan would you like, Noble lady, when we are so far from our known course?" Shakespeare stepped down from the crate, then helped Donna down and finally lifted down the child. "I know nothing of their future devices and, methinks dear girl, you know little enough as well."

Donna sighed and leaned back against the wall of the house. "I wish the Doctor was here," she said finally, grimly. "Or even Jack. One of them could…" Her eyes widened as a realization came to her, abruptly. "Wait."

"Donna?"

She waved her hands to shush the man, her brain moving rapidly, trying to come to a conclusion that would make the idea in her head work. "They've got computers," she said, urgently. "Information machines, from the future." She paced a step forward, then back two more. "I may be just a temp, but I'm the best damn temp in London. I've never met a computer system I couldn't work out, and they get easier all the time." She gestured at the house, bouncing reflexively on her toes, feeling a frantic excitement building within her. "I can't program them or make them sing 'God Save the Queen,' that's all John. But I can get in and find their files. I can read them. I just need a way to get rid of them."

"That will be my task, then," Shakespeare said with a sudden boyish grin.

"I don't like that look, Bill," Donna said warily. "What are you up to?"

"You wished for the Doctor to be here, and he will be."

"You can't go back and fetch him," Donna protested. "There's no time, and you can't think once you go in there."

Shakespeare shook his head and gave her a look that said he despaired of her. "Donna, I'm William Shakespeare. Perhaps your future world tells of me only as a playwright, when it does not try to deny my existence altogether. I am a playwright and a good one, but I have always been an actor." He smiled quite fetchingly and convincingly and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "The play's the thing, Donna, the very thing."

"You're mad," Donna decided, awed and thrilled at once.

"It's been said," the man agreed blandly.

Donna sighed. "All right, Bard of Avon, let's hear the script."

* * *

"That's mine!" Jack exclaimed, trembling with rage. "How the hell did you get it?"

The Doctor's eyes dropped to the identical computer on Jack's wrist, wondering how Jack knew it was his and not another. Then, his eyes picked out the distinctive markings he probably should have noticed ages ago. A tiny silver constellation had been etched in both devices, one the Doctor found intimately familiar, so familiar it made him wonder how messed up he had been before that he never saw it until he saw it twice.

It was the constellation of Kasterborous the Timekeeper, and Jack had been wearing it on his wrist all this time. "How did you… when…"

"Not now, Doc," Jack snapped tersely, advancing on Morton, his green eyes blazing. "What have you done, you neurotic bitch?"

"Wait," the Doctor interrupted, stopping Jack with a hand on the ex-Time Agent's arm. The sheer fury pouring off the human gave the Doctor a brief shock. He couldn't remember a time when Jack had ever projected this badly. "Jack, I know what they're trying to do."

John had just erased a long string of numbers and replaced them with correct ones, and suddenly everything made sense. "This will never work," the Doctor insisted, a finger leveled at the abomination his ginger-haired counter-part was being forced to contemplate.

"You know, that's the same thing your friend said," Morton replied with a high pitched titter. "Yet he is now devising the corrected formulae. It is a very simple thing. We will save Julius Caesar and thereby generate a parallel universe."

"It isn't that simple!" the Doctor protested fervently. "You'd never survive the initial paradox and even if you did, the walls are sealed. All you'll succeed in doing is ripping a hole in the Vortex. The Reapers will devour everything, except maybe Jack. Stop this madness now."

"You cannot possibly comprehend the enormity of this potential," Morton said. Her voice was gentle and pitying, so condescending that the Doctor had flashbacks to his Academy days for a nanosecond or so. "Time travel is much more complex than you can begin to imagine. Possession of a time traveling device does not make one an expert, sir."

The Doctor, for the first time since his regeneration into a babbling loud-mouth with a gob with no off-switch, was struck completely speechless.

Jack's jaw swung freely in the breeze for an instant, and then he gave a rough hoot of sarcastic laughter. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to? I suppose the agents you're working with told you they're the ultimate authority?" He shook his head, chuckling mirthlessly. "They fed me that line, too, sweetheart. I ended up with two years of my memory gone and that was the best part."

"I was dying, Jack," Morton said, suddenly quite pleading.

"You're human," Jack answered coldly. "You were born dying and you'll get no sympathy from me. Mortality's the privilege of mortal kind, the one thing you have that even gods envy – the right, and the ability, to stop."

The Doctor looked at Jack in awe and horror and complete understanding. Even the Last of the Time Lords had more mortality left to him than Jack did. Without the Matrix to bind him, the Doctor would regenerate indefinitely, but at any death, he could still choose. If it got to be too much, if the sum total of his losses became more than he could bear, if he came to the point where he was as certain as he had been after the Time War, or after Rose fell the first time that the Universe would be safer without him, he had the option to stop.

Jack, however, had no choice. He was a fact, as incontrovertible as space or matter. Time itself held Jack here, clung to him as irrefutable and would not relinquish its hold. He was a permanent fixture in a way that even the Doctor was not.

"All of this is irrelevant at the moment," the Doctor interrupted, causing the two to break their locked gazes. He refused to let himself sink into this kind of melancholy or regret. He refused to dwell, not now, there wasn't time. "You're not going to do this because I will not let you."

Morton's laughter was a singularly annoying sound, shrill and grating. "How can you stop me? You don't even know our plans."

"You're holding the soothsayer's family hostage in order to gain his silence," the Doctor shot back, his voice cold, his speech clipped and rapid. Morton's face fell and, as the Doctor continued, gradually turned the color of day-old oatmeal. "Your hired thugs were sent to kidnap Cassius and you've got John working on the math in case you missed anything. You even have a couple of lying Time Agents on a chain somewhere here to handle – they think – the Reapers and any other paradox repercussions you can anticipate. There's equipment here somewhere, presumably operated from this workstation behind you, that you lot believe will allow you to harness the causal nexus, keeping the new universe and the correct one joined. What you don't know, however, besides anything about time at all, is that John has disrupted part of your plan and Jack can take care of most of the rest of it."

"I can?" Jack asked, blinking in surprise. "How?"

"Free John," the Doctor said.

"How do I do that?" Jack demanded.

"They're your pheromones, figure it out."

"Even if I can produce buckets of them, which she's obviously managed to synthesize, there's no way I can keep them from chemically bonding to her mind altering substance."

"Fine," said the Doctor.

"Who are you?" the woman finally asked.

The Doctor stared. "Me? I'm the reason you have a job."

"You're also the reason we have a planet, if it helps," Jack offered.

"Not really," the Doctor answered grimly. "Blame the Time Lords for that."

"Time… Lords?" Morton said.

The Doctor grinned brilliantly, but there was nothing the slightest bit nice about it. "Time Lords _were_ the ultimate authority over time. They could move at will through the fourth dimension, manipulate it as easily as you can ball up a sheet of paper. They were building stars and reordering the cosmos before your sun was spun into space. The oldest species in the Universe, and they had responsibility for all of it. They died for it, and there's only one left."

Morton's face was now bloodless. The Doctor knew she wanted to disbelieve him, wanted to think that what he was saying was a lie. "Who are you?" she demanded, all the politeness and false cheer gone out of her voice.

"I'm the Doctor," he said. "And I'm the Last of the Time Lords, and I'm going to stop you."

The woman considered the Doctor's bleak face, and Jack's cold, unforgiving stance. Then, she ran.


	10. Chapter 10

******As I am a professional writer and have work to do to get paid, I have decided to deal with these thudding plot bunnies in the traditional manner - I will inflict them on others. Please see my Profile for the Challenges of the Month. This month's June Challenges have been added because June's a good month for a change. The new challenges will run through the end of June. If you'd prefer to do May's, feel free. Please let me know when you respond to a Challenge so I can read and review. I will also be linking them on my LJ in the future!**

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* * *

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A Bardic Tale

_Chapter 10: Mac...The Scottish Play_

"Do we go after her, Doc?" Jack asked.

"Not yet. Have to get John to stop computing the value of pi over here first, and then dismantle this monstrosity of hers."

"I can handle that," Jack replied. Grinning, he brought one large, booted foot down hard on the fuel cell kit that was powering the thing. It broke apart, leaving a large puddle on the floor. The computer stopped working, which was a shame really, because it would have been interesting to watch the thing go up in sparks.

"John, stop," the Doctor said. John kept working. "Worth a try," the Doctor said with a sigh, raking his fingers through his hair and looking completely lost. "It worked on Bill."

"Because you were the first to give him orders, I think," Jack said ruefully. "John's answering to the Queen of the Damned. Although…" As the thought came to him, Jack grinned. "John, stop."

"Your pheromones," the Doctor observed as John lifted the chalk from the board and set down the eraser.

"If we get him away from it, will he recover?"

"I'd have to synthesize an antidote, actually, at least for those who've been directly dosed." The Doctor looked around frantically. "Pheromones, pheromones. Chemicals bonded to pheromones… break down the chemical bond. Adjust the pheromone level, no, more pheromones just bond to more chemicals. Erm... how about the chemical, can I interfere with it?" The Time Lord jerked his hands through his hair, tugged at it and, as near as Jack could tell, had a small tantrum at everything.

John flinched. Jack frowned at this and sniffed the air, realizing that the scents of ozone and rain had appeared alongside his own heady fragrance.

"Doc," Jack called, "I really hate to interrupt your moment of devotion to your alien gods or whatever, but I think we might have a bigger problem." The Doctor glowered at Jack fiercely. "No, seriously. Antoinette's not easily upset. I realize she just ran away from the Oncoming Glower, but I can't help wondering if she wasn't just going for back-up. There are displaced Time Agents involved, after all."

"I can't deal with them with John vulnerable," the Doctor snapped. "Not helping here, Jack."

Jack grinned. "You said his body's still adjusting to being human. So some things, completely at random, are still Time Lord."

"Not exactly," the Doctor said. "I don't dare use telepathy on him, if that's what you're suggesting. It's too risky, especially if he still has some remnant of Time Lord telepathic acuity. I've never been good with temptation..."

"I wasn't thinking of telepathy, actually," Jack interrupted. "I was thinking more biological than mental. What his body does."

"It's complicated." The Doctor looked around the room as if looking for an example and finally nodded. "He still has Time Lord reflexes to some extent, obviously. At least, he's as fast as you, to have taken down two people with heavier builds in an enclosed space, with no hand-to-hand training aside from muscle memory. He's got to be. Why?"

"If we take him out of here and expose him to a different set of biochemicals, would that break the drug control?"

"It might... if he was conditioned by them before. Given his nature, I can't even begin to guess at what he would react to and... Jack, I do not like that look on your face."

Jack's grin only got broader as he explained his theory to the Time Lord. The Doctor's expression went from annoyed, across the spectrum of ill, disgusted, revolted, and all the way to completely murderous. "Well?" Jack asked.

"You are a warped and twisted, sick and perverted human being, Jack Harkness."

"Will it work?" Jack insisted.

The Doctor gave a shrug, then the tiniest of nods, then a shrug again. Then, Jack supposed it was in case he'd missed something, the Doctor added, "I hate everything."

* * *

Donna and Portia peered through the back window of Portia's house. "If this doesn't work, if he gets killed, the Doctor's gonna kill me," Donna muttered.

Portia smiled her impish little smile. "We have the good gods on our side, Donna. It has to work."

OK, so that was one way to look at it. Donna ruffled the child's hair affectionately. "If something bad happens, I want you to run. All the way back to the blue box temple. Can you do that? Wait there for the Doctor and Jack and tell them, please."

Portia nodded solemnly, but her dark eyes were dancing. "You have to believe, Donna," she added.

Donna smiled. "Must be nice to be so certain," she said gently.

"It is the day of the wolf," Portia explained. "The friends of the wolf cannot fail."

There was a sudden commotion inside the house as the door opposite the window opened, and Bill Shakespeare strode in as if he owned the place. The three men already in the house jumped to their feet, reaching for weapons. "Hello," said Bill, cheerfully. "I'm the Doctor. And I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Donna dropped her head in her hands and groaned.

* * *

The two men standing against the wall were still completely blank of face and feature. Jack sighed. At least they were away from the house. The new one had tried to stop them from leaving, apparently on Morton's orders, but a quick word from Jack had stopped that man in his tracks. "Roman," Jack decided, studying the man's clothes. "Might be Portia's father, actually. Wonder if I can get him to tell me where the rest of his family is?"

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Let's worry about John, first." He stared at his ginger-haired counterpart. "This is ridiculous," he grumbled.

"Blinovitch doesn't apply to you, Doc," said Jack. "Bet you've done it before."

The Doctor rolled his eyes again. "Humans. Is that all you think about?"

Jack chuckled. "That wasn't a denial," he said, his tone teasing and accusing at once.

The Doctor shrugged. "I sometimes wonder how your species ever managed to do anything the least bit productive, never mind to spawn a civilization that survives to the end of time."

"That's probably you, somehow," Jack said. "Every time we should have died in the dry dark, along comes the Doctor and rescues us from ignominy. Just admit it. You love us, really."

The Doctor couldn't resist a small smile, then shook his head as Jack started to grin at him. "Some of you," the Doctor admitted. "Maybe not you, though, Harkness."

"That's a maybe, though," Jack said. "There's hope for me yet."

The banter was ridiculous. The Doctor shook his head, chuckling ruefully. This was why he enjoyed having Jack around, though he'd never admit it. Jack loved to play. No matter how serious the situation, given an opportunity, Jack would find a way to add playfulness and something light-hearted and humorous. He sometimes wondered, though they never talked about it, if Jack knew the Doctor never would have survived the Valiant if not for Jack.

"Look, Doc, it's either this, or get as mad as you possibly can and hit him. I'm not trying to tell you how to make friends and influence people, but I'm pretty sure breaking bones wasn't in the book."

The Doctor rolled his eyes and decided to take the flippant comments in the spirit they were intended. Jack would be the next to the last person that he would tell he'd never hurt John. Neither of them needed to think about that. "Take your new friend around the corner, let me sort John out."

"I wanted to watch," Jack complained.

The Doctor grinned. "I'm sure you did," he agreed. He also didn't point out what they both knew on this subject, just shrugged. "Suit yourself."

He walked over to John, hesitant, not certain Jack's idea would work. It was disturbing and embarrassing. Then again, it wasn't like that wasn't one of the things that happened to him, these days. He ended up in exactly this situation with everyone, everyone but... He shrugged and looked at Jack, dubiously. Jack nodded and made a gesture for him to get on with it.

He wouldn't think about it, the Doctor decided. If he did, it would break him.

* * *

"You've no idea what you do here," Bill said, "but the error you make is grave indeed. You need to stop, and I've come to at least give you one warning. Stop, now, or I shall be forced to stop you."

Donna decided then and there that Bill had seen the Doctor in action at least once. He'd stolen the room. The men inside couldn't even reach for their space guns, they were too caught up in staring at Bill in fascination. He had his own presence, his own charisma, and he'd used it to duplicate the sense of power that always came with the Doctor. It was something she'd seen the Doctor do before, just stand there, by himself, and somehow manage to make it bloody obvious that he brought the storm in full thunder in his wake.

And William Shakespeare was pretending to be him, and doing a shockingly good job at it. Even if he used older words the Doctor wouldn't have used probably, and even though he'd affected more of a Scottish accent than that peculiar South London the Doctor usually had, he had the Doctor's trick of speech down. The rhythm and cadence, the breathless pace of it, the way it rose and fell over words, that was all perfect.

"Who are you?" the largest of the men demanded. Donna decided to name him Hulk because he looked like one, only missing the green paint.

"I am the Doctor, as I've said," Bill replied. "I've always wondered why it is that humans with weapons fail to listen. Is it something trained into you? Perhaps it's the result of a deficiency in your diet. Maybe it comes to you from birth - I've never considered that before, but it makes sense. If you have this inability to listen when you're born, you become a human with a weapon. Yes, I think that would explain a great deal..."

Donna stifled a laugh behind her hand. The Doctor would be mortally offended, probably, but that bit was classic Doctor.

"Doctor who?" the next largest man in the room demanded. Donna decided to call him Weed. Again, he wasn't green, but the description suited none the less.

Shakespeare glared at them. "I don't interrupt when you're talking," he chastised rudely and Donna grinned even wider. "I expect to be heard and attended to when I am speaking, and if you cannot, best to stop your ears. However, if you must know, I'm a Time Lord. And I'm telling you to cease this at once."

Weed looked at Hulk and they all three broke out laughing. "There's no such thing as Time Lords," Weed announced.

"Suit yourselves," said Shakespeare, completely flip, like the Doctor. "Do you need this?" he added, and snatched something off the table near to his hand.

The shortest one, whom Donna had decided just to call Green, to keep with the theme, grabbed his gun and took a shot at Bill. Bill ducked and darted out the door. Then, he stuck his head back around the door, shouted, "Catch me if you can!" and was gone.

"Don't just stand there!" shouted Weed, snatching up his gun. "After him!"

* * *

"Please don't hate me later," the Doctor said, leaned forward, and planted his lips over the frozen lips of his red-headed double.

Jack grinned, admiring the view. It really was quite lovely. The Doctor had to ramp up his own pheromones for this to actually work, and Jack distracted himself from the Doctor suddenly exuding sex appeal by planning the jokes he would make later. He was pretty sure he could have a lot of fun, teasing John if not the Doctor.

It took a few moments for the human to respond to the Time Lord's advances, but it was still surprisingly fast. Jack preened at the knowledge that he'd been right. John could still sense the Doctor, on some level. Identical hands shot up into the Doctor's hair and there was a low groan from one of them. Their bodies moved in perfect tandem, pressing closer together, the brown suit an attractive contrast against the white of John's toga and tunic.

The kiss got quite heated, if Jack was anyone to judge (and if there was any better judge, Jack had yet to meet him). They seemed to be battling for dominance, faces shifting, tongues tangling, the Doctor's hands slipping down from John's face to clutch at his shoulders. What must it feel like, to be practically kissing yourself?

When the Doctor pulled away from the kiss, John's eyes were closed, and he leaned back toward the Doctor again. The Doctor didn't seem to be able to resist it, and planted a much more chaste kiss on John's lips. John's eyes flew open and he stared at the Doctor, golden-green eyes alight with something like wonder.

"Welcome back," the Doctor murmured.

John blinked twice, his hands shaking as he lowered them to mirror the Doctor's. He stared at the Time Lord and his mouth opened, but no words came out. Jack chuckled quietly and resisted the urge to go interrupt.

"Better now?" the Doctor asked.

John blinked again, and then, to Jack's utter hilarity, he snapped, "Oi, spaceman, what was that for?"

The Doctor let go of John and rolled his eyes. "Yep," the Doctor said, stroking a hand up through the absolute chaos John had made of his brown hair, "all better."

John leaned back against the wall, looking utterly baffled and disturbed. He also appeared to be trying to find out where the pockets were in his outfit.

"Right," said the Doctor, as if nothing had happened, "we need to go fetch Donna and Shakespeare and see if we can't sort this out."

"Donna?" John asked, jumping away from the wall, suddenly all business. "Is she all right? Where is she?"

"She's fine," the Doctor said. "I sent her and Shakespeare back to the TARDIS."

Bill Shakespeare picked that exact moment to charge by them, a pack of Time Agents on his heels.

* * *

Donna Noble sat down in front of the futuristic computer and looked for the mouse. There didn't seem to be one, but she touched the pad where the mouse would be and the computer screen responded. Grinning, Donna set to work, opening up everything on the desktop at once and glancing at each file as it came up. Surely there had to be something referring to 44 BC, or Julius Ceasar, or Romans, or Earth History, something. "Don't touch anything, Portia," Donna said to the child who was peering with interest at the objects that had been added since she last left her house.

Portia turned to her and tucked her small hands behind her back. "I'll be careful," she promised.

Donna smiled and went back to digging through the files. She kept a wary eye on the door for several minutes, but when she was reasonably certain that Bill's ruse had worked, she turned all the attention to the computer in front of her.

That was where she made her mistake, that and forgetting that people kept teleporting into this house. She'd just found the file she needed - something about experimental implementation of pocket dimensions - when there was the sound of a footstep nearby. "Portia," she said, sharply, "I told you to..." Donna looked up.

There was a woman with a gun staring down at her, and a slow smile was spreading across the woman's face as she clutched Portia tight against her with the hand not holding the gun. "Step away from the machine slowly, please, dear," the woman said.

Donna, completely furious, did as she was told.

* * *

"Stay here," Jack ordered the man they'd found in the house. "Don't move."

Jack, John, and the Doctor thundered down the street after Shakespeare and his sudden escort.


End file.
